Elizabeth: The Disinherited Daugheter | Page 8

special
efforts to be social and attentive. O, how she enjoyed those morning
rides! Yet now and then she felt, though she could scarcely tell why,
that a strange agitation, embarrassed her father's spirits. Was he trying
to muster courage to acknowledge his wrong in persecuting her? Was
he really "under concern" for his own soul? or was he unhappy because
she was not more gay and worldly? It was useless for her to conjecture;
he was a reticent man, and allowed no one to meddle with his thoughts.
She had now nearly regained her usual strength, and the time drew near
for her to attend church. One morning, after a pleasant ride of unusual
length, drawing near home, the father broke out in tremulous tones:
"Now, Betsey, you won't go with the Methodists any more, will you? I
can't allow it--no more at all. I command you to have nothing more to
do with that people."
They had reached the block, and the agitated girl hastened to her room,
and most of the day and evening she was seeking the "wisdom that
cometh from above." She easily settled all questions but one. She saw
clearly what system of doctrines she must subscribe to and advocate
and exemplify; what means of grace she needed and must have and
honor by her attendance; and she knew where her heart centered, and
where her covenant vows must be taken and fellowship cultivated and
enjoyed. All was plain as noonday except her father's commands and
her duty to him. This last problem she laid before the Lord; and no
sooner was it fully committed to him than the Holy Spirit quoted the
filial duty with a peculiar emphasis to her heart: "Obey your parents in
the Lord." "He that loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy
of Me."

Her line of duty was now fully decided, cost what it might. Saturday
morning they were again in their saddles, and side by side, beginning a
long ride in silence. Elizabeth was desirous of telling her story and
kindly explaining her views of duty, and, obtaining permission, she
began at the beginning and rehearsed the dealings of God with her up to
that hour. She then declared her filial affection and her readiness to
obey implicitly in all matters where duty to God and conscience would
permit. Finally, she appealed to her father "not to hinder or embarrass
her, seeing the Lord had so marvelously rescued her from the power of
the enemy and snatched her from the very jaws of death and ruin."
All this time the stern man had kept silence. They were nearing home.
He opened his mouth and firmly told her that he "should at once and
finally disinherit her if she went to Methodist meeting again!"
No more was said. Elizabeth that day looked upon all the familiar
objects about that dear old home of her childhood as no longer hers in
any sense. Her pets, especially her noble horse; her home, in which she
was born and reared; the sick room, where she had suffered unutterable
horrors and gained such memorable victories; her own dear room,
where she was finally to spend that, her last night, as having any right
there. She came, at last, late in the evening, to sweet slumbers in the
"peace that passeth understanding."
Early Sunday morning she was plainly attired and slowly walking
toward her beloved church, a plain chapel in a part of the city of
Middletown near two miles from the Cove. There she feasted upon the
word and publicly gave in her name as a probationer in the Methodist
Episcopal Church.
From that moment she was afloat--out on the broad sea of life, without
a home; a disowned, disinherited girl! She left home this morning, a
comfortable, stately, dear old home of wealth, elegance, and affection.
She must not return to it to-night. She was but yesterday an heiress.
To-day she is poor, a wanderer in the earth. But she has at last a
church-home, and her life really begins to-day. Father and mother have
cast her off for her religion, but "the Lord hath taken her up." She is not
without friends. Several doors are open for her. Almost before she

knows she is homeless she has resumed her work of teaching and has a
delightful home in a Methodist family.
Thus favorably situated for study, she takes up the doctrines of the
Gospel as believed and taught by the Methodists, and makes rapid
proficiency. Her pastor, one of the flaming heralds of early Methodism
in New England, furnished her with the best of reading, and all her
associates in the studies and active work of Zion wondered at the rapid
progress of the disinherited girl. Little could they