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Carved Cupboard (Dramatic Reading)

<h3> Elfie's Choice </h3> 'Go, whate'er the lot may be That my Father sends to me, Never am I comfortless With His Word to aid and bless; And while He His help is bringing, I will cheer the way with singing.'—Farningham. Gwen refused to have her breakfast in bed the next morning, and appeared downstairs at the usual hour with a white determined face. She looked in astonishment at Elfie, who was flitting round the room singing merrily, as she added fresh flowers to the vases on the breakfast table. 'Well,' said Elfie, a little defiantly, 'I am not going to be miserable, even if we have lost our money. There is no death in the house, and they say beggars have lighter hearts than kings!' And she would not have breakfast a silent meal, but chatted and laughed, and had so much to tell Gwen of all that had happened during her absence, that she infected the others with her light-hearted gaiety. It was after Agatha had done her housekeeping that, sitting round the fire, Gwen gave them full details of all they wished to know. She did not spare herself, and her sisters wondered at the change in her, for never before in their lives had they known Gwen to own herself in the wrong. Then ways and means were discussed, Agatha declared she would send away the two maids at once, and then with the help of a woman from the village, she was sure they could still live together on her income; but this the others would not hear of. 'I would set up a village shop if I had capital,' asserted Gwen, with a little of her old spirit; 'the rôle of governess for needy women is past and gone; but for myself I know I shall not do better than stick to literature. I can write, and I have had many openings which I have refused, because I did not want the grind of it. If I set to work in earnest now, I shall soon bring some grist to the mill.' 'By the bye,' said Agatha, 'I wonder if you could make anything of a fat bundle of manuscripts that Mr. Lester bequeathed to me. I know you love any ancient papers, and though they're Latin and Greek to me, you may make something of them.' She left the room, and soon returned with the papers. Gwen's eyes glistened as she looked them through. And she seemed to forget time and surroundings as she sat down and pored over them with eager interest. At last she looked up. Agatha, if I can put these together, it will prove a valuable legacy. Will you hand them over to me? There will be months' work, but it will be well worth the labour. I know some men in London would give you hundreds of pounds for some of these papers, but I shall not let them slip out of my hands.' 'I am so glad you will be able to make something of them,' responded Agatha simply. 'He said I might make what use I liked of them, so I willingly give them to you.' 'So Gwen's livelihood is secured,' said Clare, trying to speak lightly. 'Now let me tell you what I propose to do. The other day Miss Villars asked me if I knew of any lady who would undertake the post of matron to a small Convalescent Home for clergymen's wives and daughters. It is a private one that Miss Villars has started herself. She said she wanted some one who was quite a lady, and who would be able to make every one feel comfortable and at home. The salary would be about 50 pounds. She said she would only give the post to some one who was really needing the money. I believe she would give it to me at once if I told her how things were with us, and I should like it. I mean to go over to her this afternoon and ask her about it. Well, Agatha, don't you approve? Do you think me too incapable for the housekeeping?' Clare finished her proposal rather wistfully, and Gwen looked at her in wonder. She had noticed, as perhaps the others had not, the great change that had passed over the wilful, capricious girl during the last six months. There was a subdued tone in her voice, but a glad light in her eye and a quiet restfulness about her manner that had been utterly foreign to her before. Clare had come through the refining fire, softened and purified; she was a little quieter than she used to be, but every now and then her old, clear laugh would ring out, and if her moods were not so mirthful as Elfie's, they were quite as bright. Quietly and unassumingly she had slipped into the way of giving her help whenever it was needed, and now when Agatha contemplated the possibility of a coming separation from her, she began to realize how much she would miss her. The conversation continued, and then Elfie put in her word. 'And now what in the world am I to do? Will you agree to letting me go up to London and play to the public? I could get pushed on by Professor S——. He told me in Germany he could give me several very good introductions, if I wished to make music my profession. There is really nothing else I am good at.' No one would hear of this suggestion, and later in the day Agatha confided to Gwen a little of her anxiety about Alick Lester and Elfie. 'I do not think it is fancy. He is a great deal here—more than I like—and now he has no eyes or ears for any one but her. I do not know whether she likes him; I notice she is self-conscious and absorbed when he is here, and that is not at all natural to her.' 'What prospects has he?' asked Gwen abruptly. 'I don't know. I sometimes wish I knew a little more about him. Ever since he has opened the cupboard, he has had something weighing on his mind, and though he tells me he has only about 200 pounds a year to live upon, he seems in no hurry to get anything to do. It is an idle life for him in this small village. He is with his cousin most of his time, but he drops in to see us in the evening; in fact, they both come here a great deal, and though Miss Miller has put her veto on it, nothing will keep them away.' 'I wish Elfie would marry. She is not fit to fight life's battle;' and Gwen sighed as she spoke, and her face relapsed into its now habitual gloom. But the next day brought a letter that decided Elfie's fate. She opened it with a grimace at the handwriting. 'Now what does Cousin James want to say to me! Do you think he has heard of our misfortunes?' She read on, and her face grew thoughtful. Instead of handing it over to any of her sisters to read, she left the room with it in her hand. And in the privacy of her own bedroom she spread it out before her, and a hard and sore battle commenced in her heart. The letter was as follows:— 'DEAR ELFRIDA,— 'I have just heard in the city from Watkins, that your clever sister has squandered out in California, all the money that was left you by our aunt. It is a pity that you are all so wilful and ignorant about money matters. However, I am quite willing to come forward and offer my help, though in these hard times, with such an establishment as Dane Hall to keep up, I find it increasingly difficult to live within my income. Your cousin Helen is in very delicate health, and has for some time past felt unequal to managing our large household. She needs some bright companionship; and I now offer you a home with us, on condition that you make yourself generally useful, and relieve your cousin of all the house-keeping details that fret and annoy her. I shall allow you a handsome allowance for dress in addition, as I shall wish to see you suitably dressed for our position here. Let me hear how soon you can come, and I will arrange that you shall be met at the station. Tell Agatha I commend her for her prudence in refusing to let her money be used for speculation. I hope it will be a lesson to Gwendoline in the future. Her self-confidence needed to be shaken. 'Your affectionate cousin, 'JAMES DANE.' Elfie read and re-read this through in a mist of tears. 'O God,' she murmured, 'anything but this! I cannot go. It would be slow torture! Do Thou guide and direct me, and help me to decide; but oh, if it is possible, do Thou open another door for me!' Poor Elfie knew well enough that if she asked her sisters' advice, they would be all agreed as to the impossibility of her accepting her cousin's offer. She knew her Cousin Helen would not make her house a happy or an easy home to live in, for she was a weak, nervously-strung woman, with an irritable temper and an abject fear of her husband, whose will was absolute law. And in the secret depths of Elfie's heart there was a strong disinclination, even though she would not own it to herself, to leave home at present. Though Alick Lester had not said much to her, she knew well enough what his state of feelings were about her; his frequent visits were becoming very pleasant to her, and to leave it all, and perhaps never see him again, was hard to contemplate calmly. He often talked to her of going abroad, and she feared he might do so at once, were she gone. Yet, as she looked the matter straight in the face, she could not but acknowledge to herself that she had no right to refuse it. 'I will not live on Agatha's money; she would share her last crust with any of us, but I am young and strong, and this has come when I am looking out for employment. Many a girl would be thankful to have such a home offered her. I must go and do my best, and I must decide myself, without listening to the others. But oh, it will be a hard life after our happy little home together here!' The battle was won after she had knelt in prayer, and when she joined her sisters again she was her sunny self. But when she let them read the letter, they were all indignant at the thought of it. 'I should think you would rather sweep a crossing than go!' 'To be a dependent on Cousin James, and a member of his household, would be more than flesh and blood could stand!' 'Can you imagine the life of Cousin Helen's companion?' And so on, until throwing back her little head importantly, Elfie was able to protest. 'I know you won't approve of it, but I have decided that I shall go, and you must look at the advantages and make the best of it if you want to help me.' 'You shall never go with my consent,' said Agatha, roused from her usual placidity. 'Then,' said Elfie, laughing, 'I shall go without it, or rather, I shall never rest till I have coaxed a consent out of you. Think of living in the dear old place we all love so well, in the lap of luxury, with nothing to do but dress well, and eat well, and order the dinners, and see that the servants do their work properly! And hasn't it just come at the right time, when my future was so unsettled? Now if Clare succeeds in her plan we shall be all provided for, and life will go smoothly again. And we must comfort ourselves with the thought that we are only paying visits away from home, and perhaps next Christmas we may get together again!' She rattled on, and then ran out of the room to hide the little choke in her throat, and her sisters looked at each other in bewilderment. 'I never could have thought Elfie would have entertained the idea for a minute,' said Agatha; 'she cannot have the same feelings we have about Cousin James if she can so calmly accept his offer. But she was away in Germany, I remember, when it all happened. I suppose it is rather attractive to her than otherwise. She does not know Cousin Helen as we do.' 'She has no proper pride,' said Gwen, with flashing eyes; and then she pulled herself up. 'Well, I have driven her to it. That will be consolation to me!' 'She talks very lightly of leaving home,' said Clare. 'I wish I had her happy way of looking at things. Nothing seems to trouble her.' It needed a great deal of coaxing and persuasion to bring her sisters round to her way of thinking; but Elfie was allowed at last to send off her letter accepting her cousin's offer, and none of them ever knew how much it cost her to do it. Her sunny temper and light-hearted mirth often hid a good deal of feeling; but, like many others with such a disposition, she never got the credit of taking life seriously. 'She is such a child,' Agatha would say; 'she will be happy in any circumstances. I am thankful she does not feel things deeply.' And so none but One above knew the scalding tears dropped in secret, and the terrible sinking of heart with which she viewed her future. Clare went over to see Miss Villars in the afternoon, and after a long talk obtained the post she coveted. 'You know,' she confided to her friend, 'since I have felt so differently about things, I have been longing to do some work for God. It is very pleasant living at home, but it is an idle life, isn't it? With Miss Miller's energy, and Agatha aiding her in all the village work, there is nothing left for me, and I long if I can to influence others for good.' 'I am so thankful to hear you say so, and doubly thankful to think of you being in a position to influence others of your own class. The young people at the convalescent home will be so much more likely to confide in you, and be impressed by what you say, from the very fact of your being young yourself, and not beyond all the innocent pleasures of youth.' 'But,' said Clare depreciatingly, 'I am such a beginner; that is the one thing frightens me—my want of experience. And I am still very moody, Miss Villars. Don't smile; I do think at the bottom of my heart my restlessness and discontent is gone; but some days everything seems black, and I wonder if I am a real Christian after all. I wish I had your feelings.' 'Oh, these feelings!' said Miss Villars, with a little laugh. 'You will be better, my dear child, when your life is more filled up, and you have so much of others' troubles and pleasures to think of, that you will have no time for your own.' So Clare came back with her future settled, and the sisters were very busy for the next few weeks making preparation for the two departing ones. Alick and his cousin were in and out, and the former seemed to get doubly depressed when he heard that Elfie was going away. Yet up to the last his tongue seemed tied, and it was not until she was actually in the railway carriage that he said a word. He had insisted upon seeing her off, and Agatha, fussing over the luggage, was not aware that anything passed between them. Holding Elfie's hand tightly in his own, he said huskily and with emphasis:— 'You won't forget me? I shall see you again; and meanwhile, believe I mean it!' That was all that was said, but the two understood each other, and Elfie leant back in her seat, as the train steamed out of the station, with joy throbbing through her heart. 'I shall not be at Cousin James' long, I am sure,' she repeated over and over to herself; and so bravely and cheerfully she took up her new life, and her letters home were so bright and amusing, that both Agatha and Gwen thought that she was perfectly happy and well. <h3> CHAPTER XVIII </h3> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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