HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS

 A SEQUEL TO ELSIE DINSMORE

 BY MARTHA FINLEY

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by M. W. DODD, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States forthe Southern District of New York. 

Copyright, 1898, by DODD, MEAD & COMPANY. 

"Hope not sunshine every hour, Fear not clouds will always lower. "

--Burns. 

Elsie's Holidays at Roselands. 

CHAPTER I. 

"Oh Truth, Thou art, whilst tenant in a noble breast, A crown of crystal in an iv'ry chest. "

Elsie felt in better spirits in the morning; her sleep had refreshed her, and she arose with a stronger confidence in the love of both her earthlyand her heavenly Father. 

She found her papa ready, and waiting for her. He took her in his armsand kissed her tenderly. "My precious little daughter, " he said, "papa isvery glad to see you looking so bright and cheerful this morning. I thinksomething was wrong with my little girl last night. Why did she not cometo papa with her trouble?"

"_Why_ did you think I was in trouble, papa?" she asked, hiding her faceon his breast. 

"How could I think otherwise, when my little girl did not come to bid megood night, though she had not seen me since dinner; and when I went togive her a good-night kiss I found her pillow wet, and a tear on hercheek?"

"_Did_ you come, papa?" she asked, looking up in glad surprise. 

"I did. Now tell me what troubled you, my own one?"

"I am afraid you will be angry with me, papa, " she said, almost under herbreath. 

"Not half so angry as if you refuse to give me your confidence. I wouldbe glad to know that my little daughter had not a single thought orfeeling concealed from me. "

He paused a moment, looking down at the little blushing face, half hiddenon his breast, then went on:

"Elsie, daughter, you are more precious to me than aught else in thewide world, and you need not fear that any other can ever take your placein my heart, or that I will make any connection that would render youunhappy. I want no one to love but my little girl; and you must not letthe gossip of the servants disturb you. "

Elsie looked up in unfeigned astonishment. 

"Papa! you seem to know everything about me. Can you read my thoughts?"

"_Almost_, when I can see your face, " he answered, smiling at her puzzledlook. "I cannot quite, though; but I can put things together and make apretty good guess, sometimes. "

She lay still on his breast for a moment; then, raising her eyes timidlyto his face again, she said in a half-hesitating way, "I am afraid it isvery naughty in me, papa, but I can't help thinking that Miss Stevensis very disagreeable. I felt so that very first day, and I did not wantto take a present from her, because it didn't seem exactly right when Ididn't like her, but I couldn't refuse--she wouldn't let me--and I havetried to like her since, but I can't. "

"Well, darling, I don't think I am just the proper person to reprove youfor _that_, " he replied, trying to look grave, "for I am afraid I am asnaughty as you are. But we won't talk any more about her. See what I havefor you this morning. "

He pointed to the table, where lay a pile of prettily bound books, whichElsie had not noticed until this moment. They were Abbot's works. Elsiehad read several of his historical tales, and liked them very much; andher father could hardly have given a more acceptable present. 

"I was sorry for your disappointment yesterday, " he said, "but I hopethese will make up for it, and they will give you a great deal of usefulinformation, as well as amusement; while it could only be an injuryto you to read that trashy book. "

Elsie was turning over the books with eager delight. 

"_Dear_ papa, you are so kind and good to me, " she said, laying them downto put her arms around his neck and kiss him. "I like these books verymuch, and I don't at all care to read that other one since you have toldme you do not approve of it. "

"That is my own darling child, " said he, returning her caress, "yourready obedience deserved a reward. Now put on your hat, and we will takeour walk. "

Mr. Travilla joined them in the avenue, and his kind heart rejoiced tosee how the clouds of care and sorrow had all passed away from his littlefriend's face, leaving it bright and beaming, as usual. Her father hadone hand, and Mr. Travilla soon possessed himself of the other. 

"I don't altogether like these company-days, when you have to be banishedfrom the table, little Elsie, " he remarked. "I cannot half enjoy mybreakfast without your bright face to look at. "

"I don't like them either, Mr. Travilla, because I see so little of papa. I haven't had a ride with him since the company came. "

"You shall have one this afternoon, if nothing happens, " said her fatherquickly. "What do you say, Travilla, to a ride on horseback with the fouryoung ladies you took charge of yesterday, and myself?"

"Bravo! I shall be delighted to be of the party, if the ladies don'tobject; eh! Elsie, what do you think?" with a questioning look down intoher glad face, "will they want me?"

"You needn't be a bit afraid, Mr. Travilla, " laughed the little girl; "Ilike you next to papa, and I believe Lucy and the rest like you better. "

"Oh! take care, Elsie; are you not afraid of hurting his feelings?"

"No danger, as long as _she_ puts me first, " Mr. Dinsmore said, bestowinga smile and loving glance on her. 

Caroline Howard was in Elsie's room, waiting to show her bracelet, whichhad just been handed to her by her maid; Pomp having brought it from thecity late the night before. 

"Oh! Elsie, I am so glad you have come at last. I have been waiting forhalf an hour, I should think, to show you these, " she said, as Elsie camein from her walk. "But how bright and merry you look; so different fromlast night! what ailed you then?"

"Never mind, " replied Elsie, taking the bracelet from her hand, andexamining it. "Oh! this is _very_ pretty, Carry! the clasp is sobeautiful, and they have braided the hair so nicely. "

"Yes, I'm sure mamma will like it. But now that Christmas is gone, Ithink I will keep it for a New Year's gift. Wouldn't you, Elsie?"

"Yes, perhaps--but I want to tell you, Carry, what papa says. He and Mr. Travilla are going to take you, and Lucy, and Mary, and me, riding onhorseback this afternoon. Don't you think it will be pleasant?"

"Oh, it will be _grand_!" exclaimed Carry. "Elsie, I think now that yourpapa is very kind; and do you know I like him very much, indeed; quite aswell as I do Mr. Travilla, and I always liked _him_--he's so pleasant, and so funny, too, sometimes. But I must go and show my bracelet to Lucy. Hark! no, there's the bell, and I'll just leave it here until afterbreakfast. "

Elsie opened a drawer and laid it carefully in, and they ran off to thenursery. 

"Elsie, " said her father, when they had finished the morning lessons, "there is to be a children's party to-night, at Mr. Carleton's, and Ihave an invitation for you. Would you like to go?"

"Do you wish me to go, papa?" she asked. 

"Not unless _you_ wish to do so, daughter, " he said kindly. "I cannot gowith you, as there are to be none but little people, and I never feelaltogether comfortable in seeing my darling go from home without me; andyou will, no doubt, be very late in returning and getting to bed, and Ifear will feel badly to-morrow in consequence; but this once, at least, you shall just please yourself. All your little guests are going, and itwould be dull and lonesome for you at home, I am afraid. "

Elsie thought a moment. 

"Dear papa, you are very kind, " she said, "but if you please, I wouldmuch rather have you decide for me, because I am only a silly littlegirl, and you are so much older and wiser. "

He smiled, and stroked her hair softly, but said nothing. 

"Are you going to stay at home, papa?" she asked presently. 

"Yes, daughter, I expect to spend the evening either in this room or thelibrary, as I have letters to write. "

"Oh, then, papa, please let me stay with you! I would like it _much_better than going to the party; will you, papa? please say yes. "

"But you know I cannot talk to you, or let you talk; so that it will bevery dull, " he said, pushing back the curls from the fair forehead, andsmiling down into the eager little face. 

"Oh! but if you will only let me sit beside you and read one of my newbooks, I shall be quite contented, and sit as quiet as a little mouse, and not say one word without leave. Mayn't I, papa?"

"I said you should do as you pleased, darling, and I always love to havemy pet near me. "

"Oh, then I shall stay!" she cried, clapping her hands. 

Then, with a happy little sigh, "It will be so nice, " she said, "to haveone of our quiet evenings again. " And she knew, by her father's gratifiedlook, that she had decided as he would have had her. 

A servant put his head in at the door. 

"Massa Horace, dere's a gen'leman in de library axin for to see you. "

"Very well, Jim, tell him I will be there in a moment. Elsie, dear, putaway your books, and go down to your little friends. "

"Yes, papa, I will, " she replied, as he went out and left her. 

"How kind papa is to me, and how I do love him!" she murmured to herselfas she placed the books carefully in the drawer where they belonged. 

She found Lucy and Mary busily engaged in dressing a doll, and Carrydeeply interested in a book. But several of the little ones were lookingquite disconsolate. 

"Oh, Elsie, do come and play with us, " said Flora; "Enna won't playanything we like. We've been playing keeping house, but Enna will bemother all the time, and she scolds and whips us so much that we are alltired of it. "

"Well, what shall we play?" asked Elsie, good-naturedly. "Will you buildhouses?"

"No, I'm tired of that, because Enna takes all the blocks, " said anotherlittle girl. "She isn't at all polite to visitors, is she, Flora?"

"No, " replied Flora, "and I don't _ever_ mean to come to see her again. "

"I don't care, " retorted Enna, angrily, "and I don't take _all_ theblocks, either. "

"Well, _most_ all, you do, " said the other, "and it isn't polite. "

"They're mine, and I'll have as many as I want; and I don't care if it_isn't_ polite, " Enna answered, with a pout that by no means improved herappearance. 

"Will you play 'O sister, O Phebe?'" asked Elsie. 

"No, no!" cried several little voices, "Enna always wants to be in themiddle; and besides, Arthur always wants to play, and he will kiss us;and we don't like it. "

Elsie was almost in despair; but Herbert, who was lying on a sofa, reading, suddenly shut his book, saying, "I tell you what, Elsie! tell usone of those nice fairy stories we all like so much!"

"Yes, do, do!" cried several of the little ones, clapping their hands. 

So Elsie drew up a stool close to Herbert's sofa, and the little onesclustered around her, Enna insisting on having the best place forhearing; and for more than an hour she kept them quiet and interested;but was very glad when at last the maid came to take them out walking, thus leaving her at liberty to follow her own inclination. 

"What are you going to do now, Elsie?" asked Caroline, closing her book. 

"I am going down to the drawing-room to ask Aunt Adelaide to show me howto crochet this mitten for mammy, " Elsie answered. 

"Won't you come along, girls?"

"Yes, let's take our sewing down there, " said Lucy, gathering up the bitsof muslin and silk, and putting them in her work-box. 

Elsie glanced hastily around as they entered, and gave a satisfied littlesigh on perceiving that Miss Stevens was not in the room, and that herAunt Adelaide was seated with her embroidery near one of the windows, while her papa sat near by, reading the morning paper. 

The little girls soon established themselves in a group on the oppositeside of Miss Adelaide's window, and she very good-naturedly gave Elsiethe assistance she needed. 

"Elsie, " said Lucy, presently, in an undertone, "Carry has been showingus her bracelet, and I think it is beautiful; she won't tell whose hairit is--I guess it's her sister's, maybe--but I'm sure yours would makejust as pretty a bracelet, and I want one for my mamma; won't you give meone of your curls to make it? you have so many that one would neverbe missed. "

"No, Miss Lucy, " said Mr. Dinsmore, looking at them over his paper, "youcan't have one of my curls; I can't spare it. "

"I don't want one of _your_ curls, Mr. Dinsmore, " laughed Lucy, merrily. "I didn't ask for it. Your hair is very pretty, too, but it would bequite too short. "

"I beg your pardon, Miss Lucy, if my ears deceived me, " said he, withmock gravity, "but I was quite certain I heard you asking for one of mycurls. Perhaps, though, you are not aware of the fact that my curls growon two heads. "

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Dinsmore, " replied Lucy, laughing again, "but it was one of Elsie's curls I asked for. "

"Elsie doesn't own any, " said he; "they all belong to me. I let her wearthem, to be sure, but that is all; she has no right to give them away. "

He turned to his paper again, and Elsie bent over her work, her faceflushed, and her little hand trembling so that she could scarcely holdher needle. 

"I'm afraid I ought to tell papa, " she thought, "that I did give one ofmy curls away. I never thought about his caring, but I might have known, because when I wanted my hair cut last summer, he said they shouldn't oneof them be touched. Oh! dear, why didn't I think of that? I am afraid hewill be very much displeased. "

"Don't tell him, then, " whispered the tempter, "he is not likely ever tomiss it. "

"Nay, but it would be _wrong_ to hide your fault, " said conscience. 

"I _will_ tell him, " she resolved. 

"Wait till to-morrow, then, " whispered the tempter again; "if you tellhim now, very likely he will deprive you of your ride this afternoon, asa punishment. "

So the struggle went on in the little breast while others were chattingand laughing around her, never suspecting what a battle the little girlwas fighting within her own heart. 

Presently Lucy jumped up. "Oh! I am so tired sewing; come, girls, let'sput on our things, and take a run in the garden. "

Carry and Mary readily assented. 

"I must speak to papa first, " Elsie said in a half whisper, "but don'twait for me. "

She had spoken low, but not so low that his quick ear did not catch thesound. He had heard her, and laying his paper down on his knee, as theother little girls ran away, he turned half round and held out his hand, asking, with a smile, "Well, daughter, what is it? what have you to sayto papa?"

She went to him at once, and he was surprised to see how she wastrembling, and that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes full of tears. 

"Why! what ails my darling?" he asked tenderly. 

Adelaide had left the room a moment before, and there was no one nearenough to hear. 

"Please, papa, don't be very angry with me, " she pleaded, speaking verylow and hesitatingly. "I did not know you cared about my curls; I did notthink about their belonging to you, and I did give one to Carry. "

He was silent a moment, evidently surprised at her confession; then hesaid gently, "No, dearest, I will not be angry this time, and I feel sureyou will not do so again, now you know that I _do_ care. "

"No, _indeed_, I will not, dear papa, " she replied in a tone of intenserelief. "But you are not going to punish me?" she asked, beginning totremble again. "I was _so_ afraid to tell you, lest you would say Ishould not have my ride this afternoon. "

"Why, then, did you not put off your confession until after the ride?" heasked, looking searchingly into her face. 

"I wanted to very much, papa, " she said, looking down and blushingdeeply, "but I knew it would be very wrong. "

"My dear, conscientious little daughter, " he said, taking her on hisknee, "your father loves you better than ever for this new proof of yourhonesty and truthfulness. Deprive you of your ride? no, indeed, I feelfar more like rewarding than punishing you. Ah! I had forgotten! I havesomething for you;" and he put his hand into his pocket and brought outa letter. 

"Oh! it is from Miss Rose! dear, darling Miss Rose!" was Elsie's joyfulexclamation, as he put it in her hand. 

She made a movement as if to get down from his knee, but he detained her. 

"Sit still and read it here, darling, " he said, "I love to have you on myknee, and if there are any hard places I can help you. "

"Thank you, papa; sometimes there are hard places--at least pretty hardfor a little girl like me--though I think Miss Rose tries to writeplainly because she knows that I cannot read writing as well as bigpeople can. "

She was eagerly tearing off the envelope while she answered him, and thensettling herself comfortably she began to read. 

He watched with deep interest the varying expression of her fine opencountenance as she read. Once or twice she asked him to tell her a word, but the most of it she got through without any difficulty. 

At last she had finished. 

"It is such a nice letter, papa, " she said as she folded it up, "and sogood of Miss Rose to write to me again so soon. "

"Are you not going to let _me_ enjoy it, too?" he asked. 

She put it into his hand instantly, saying, with a blush, "I did not knowyou would care to read it, papa. "

"I am interested in all that gives either pleasure or pain to my littlegirl, " he answered gently. "I wish to be a sharer in all her joys andsorrows. "

Elsie watched him while he read, almost as intently as he had watchedher; for she was anxious that he should be pleased with Miss Rose'sletter. 

It was a cheerful, pleasant letter, well suited to interest a child ofElsie's years; giving an account of home scenes; telling of her littlebrothers and sisters, their love for each other; the little gifts theyhad prepared in anticipation of Christmas, etc. , etc. 

At the close she made some allusion to Elsie's letters, and expressed herheartfelt sympathy in her little friend's happiness. 

"I am so glad, my darling, " she wrote, "that your father now loves you sodearly, and that you are so happy in his love. My heart ached for you inthe bitter disappointment of your first meeting with him. It is true younever said that you were disappointed, but there was a tone of deepsadness in your dear little letter, the cause of which I--who knew sowell how you had looked and longed for his return, and how your littleheart yearned for his affection--could not fail to guess. But, dearchild, while you thus rejoice in an _earthly_ father's love, do notforget that you have a Father in Heaven, who claims the _first_ place inyour heart; and who is the giver of every good gift, not even exceptingthe precious love that now makes your young life so bright and happy. Keep close to Jesus, dear Elsie: His is the only _truly satisfying_love--the only one we can be certain will never fail us. "

"Is it not a nice letter, papa?" asked the little girl, as he refoldedand gave it to her again. 

"Very nice, daughter, " he answered, in an absent way. He looked verygrave, and Elsie studied his countenance intently while, for somemoments, he sat with his eyes bent thoughtfully upon the carpet. Shefeared that something in the letter had displeased him. But presently helooked at her with his usual affectionate smile, and laying his handcaressingly on her head, said, "Miss Allison seems to warn you not totrust too much to the permanence of my affection; but you need not fearthat you will ever lose it, unless, indeed, you cease to be deserving ofit. No, nor even then, " he added, drawing her closer to him, "for evenshould you grow very naughty and troublesome, you would still be _mychild_--a part of myself and of my lost Elsie, and therefore very dear tome. "

"Ah! papa, how could I ever _bear_ to lose your love? I think I shoulddie, " she said, dropping her head on his breast, with almost a sob. "Oh!if I am ever very, _very_ naughty, papa, punish me as severely as youwill; but oh, never, _never_ quit _loving_ me. "

"Set your heart at rest, my darling, " he said, tenderly, "there is nodanger of such a thing. I could not do it, if I wished. "

Ah! there came a time when Elsie had sore need of all the comfort thememory of those words could give. 

"What are you going to wear to Isabel Carleton's party, to-night, Elsie?"asked Lucy, at the dinner table. 

"Nothing, " replied Elsie, with an arch smile, "I am not going, Lucy, " sheadded. 

"Not going! well, now, that is _too_ bad, " cried Lucy, indignantly. "Ithink it's really mean of your papa; he never lets you go anywhere. "

"Oh, Lucy! he let me go to town with Carry the other day; he has letme stay up late two or three nights since you came; he is going to letme ride with the rest of you this afternoon, and he said that I mightdo just as I pleased about going to-night, " Elsie summed up rathertriumphantly, adding, in a very pleasant tone, "It is entirely my ownchoice to stay at home; so you see, Lucy, you must not blame my papabefore you know. "

Lucy looked a little ashamed, while Mary Leslie exclaimed:

"Your own choice, Elsie? why, how strange! don't you like parties?"

"Not nearly so well as a quiet evening with papa, " replied Elsie, smiling. 

"Well, you are a queer girl!" was Mary's comment, while Carolineexpressed her disappointment and vainly endeavored to change Elsie'sdetermination. The little girl was firm, because she felt sure she wasdoing right, and soon managed to change the subject of conversation tothe pleasure nearest at hand--the ride they were to take immediatelyafter dinner. 

They were a merry party, and really enjoyed themselves about as much asthey had expected; but they returned earlier than usual, as the gentlemendecided that the little ladies needed some time to rest before theevening entertainment. 

Elsie assisted her young friends to dress for the party--generouslyoffering to lend them any of her ornaments that they might fancy--sawthem come down, one after another, full of mirth and eager expectation, and looking so pretty and graceful in their beautiful evening-dresses, heard their expressions of commiseration toward herself, and watched thelast carriage roll away without a sigh or regret that she was leftbehind. And in another moment a graceful little figure glided quietlyacross the library, and sitting down on a stool at Mr. Dinsmore's feet, looked lovingly into his face with a pair of soft, dark eyes. 

His pen was moving rapidly over the paper, but ere long there was apause, and laying his hand caressingly on the curly head, he said, "Howquiet my little girl is; but where is your book, daughter?"

"If you please, papa, I would rather answer Miss Rose's letter. "

"You may, " he said, "and if you want to stay with me, you may ring thebell and tell the servant to bring your writing desk here. "

She joyfully availed herself of the permission, and soon her pen wasvainly trying to keep pace with her father's. But presently his wasthrown aside, and rising, he stood behind her chair, giving herdirections how to sit, how to hold the pen, how to form this or thatletter more correctly, guiding her hand, and commending her efforts toimprove. 

"There, you have spelled a word wrong, and I see you have one or twocapitals where there should be a small letter; and that last sentence isnot perfectly grammatical, " he said. "You must let me correct it when youare done, and then you must copy it off more carefully. "

Elsie looked very much mortified. 

"Never mind, daughter, " he said kindly, patting her cheek; "you do verywell for a _little_ girl; I dare say I made a great many more mistakes atyour age, and I don't expect you to do better than I did. "

"Oh, papa, the letters I sent you when you were away must have been fullof blunders, I am afraid, " she said, blushing deeply; "were you not verymuch ashamed of me? How could you bear to read them?"

"Ashamed of you, darling? No, indeed, neither of you nor them. I lovedthem all the better for the mistakes, because they showed how entirelyyour own they were; and I could not but be pleased with them when everyline breathed such love to me. My little daughter's confidence andaffection are worth more to me than the finest gold, or the mostpriceless jewels. "

He bent down and kissed her fondly as he spoke; then, returning to hisseat, bade her finish her letter and bring it to him when done. 

He took up his pen, and Elsie collected her thoughts once more, workedbusily and silently for another half hour, and then brought her sheet tohim for inspection; presenting it with a timid, bashful air, "I am afraidit is very full of mistakes, papa, " she said. 

"Never mind, daughter, " he answered, encouragingly; "I know that it takesa great deal of practice to make perfect, and it will be a great pleasureto me to see you improve. "

He looked over it, pointed out the mistakes very kindly and gently, put the capitals in their proper places, corrected the punctuation, and showed her how one or two of her sentences might be improved. 

Then, handing it back, he said, "You had better put it in your desk now, and leave the copying until to-morrow, as it will soon be your bedtime, and I want you on my knee until then. "

Elsie's face grew very bright, and she hastened to do his bidding. 

"And may I talk, papa?" she asked, as he pushed away his writing, wheeledhis chair about toward the fire, and then took her on his knee. 

"Yes, " he said, smiling, "that is exactly what I want you to do. Tell mewhat you have been doing all day, and how you are enjoying your holidays;or talk to me of anything that pleases, or that troubles you. I love tobe made the confidant of my little girl's joys and sorrows; and I wanther always to feel that she is sure of papa's sympathy. "

"I am so glad that I may tell you everything, my own papa, " she answered, putting her arm around his neck, and laying her cheek to his. "I haveenjoyed this day very much, because I have been with you nearly all thetime; and then, I had that nice letter from Miss Rose, too. "

"Yes, it was a very pleasant letter, " he said; and then he asked herwhat she had been doing in those hours when she had not been with him;and she gave him an animated account of the occurrences of that andseveral of the preceding days, and told of some little accidents thathad happened--amongst them that of the broken doll; and spoke of thesorrow it had caused her; but she did not blame either Flora or Enna, and concluded her narrative by saying that, "good, kind Mrs. Brown hadmended it, so that it was almost as good as ever. "

He listened with evident interest to all she said, expressed sympathy inher little trials, and gave her some good advice. 

But at length he drew out his watch, and with an exclamation of surpriseat the lateness of the hour, told her it was half an hour after herbedtime, kissed her good-night, and dismissed her to her room. 

CHAPTER II. 

 "There comesForever something between us and whatWe deem our happiness. "

BYRON'S SARDANAPALUS. 

It was quite late when the young party returned, and the next day allwere dull, and more than one peevish and fretful; so that Elsie, on whomfell, almost entirely, the burden of entertaining them, had quite atrying time. 

She noticed at breakfast that Arthur seemed in an uncommonly bad humor, preserving a sullen and dogged silence, excepting once when a sly whisperfrom Harry Carrington drew from him an exclamation of fierce anger thatalmost frightened the children, but only made Harry laugh. 

Presently after, as they were about dispersing, Arthur came to her sideand whispered that he had something to say to her in private. 

Elsie started and looked extremely annoyed, but said at once that hemight come to her room, and that there they could be quite alone, asmammy would be down-stairs getting her breakfast. 

She led the way and Arthur followed. He glanced hastily around onentering and then locked the door and stood with his back against it. 

Elsie became very pale. 

"You needn't be _afraid_" he said, sneeringly, "I'm not going to _hurt_you!"

"What do you want, Arthur? tell me quickly, please, because I must soongo to papa, and I have a lesson to look over first, " she said, mildly. 

"I want you to lend me some money, " he replied, speaking in a rapid anddetermined manner; "I know you've got some, for I saw your purse theother day, and it hadn't less than five dollars in it, I'm sure, andthat's just the sum I want. "

"What do you want it for, Arthur?" she asked in a troubled voice. 

"That's none of your business, " he answered, fiercely. "I want the money;I _must_ have it, and I'll pay it back next month, and that's all youneed to know. "

"No, Arthur, " she said gently, but very firmly, "unless you tell me allabout it, I cannot lend you a single cent, because papa has forbidden meto do so, and I cannot disobey him. "

"Nonsense! that's nothing but an excuse because you don't choose to do mea favor, " returned the boy angrily; "you weren't so particular aboutobeying last summer when he made you sit all the afternoon at the piano, because you didn't choose to play what he told you to. "

"That was because it would have been breaking God's command; but this isvery different, " replied Elsie, mildly. 

"Well, if you _must_ know, " said he, fiercely, "I want it to pay a debt;I've been owing Dick Percival a dollar or so for several weeks, and lastnight he won from me again, and he said if I didn't pay up he'd report meto papa, or Horace, and get the money from them; and I got off only bypromising to let him have the full amount to-day; but my pocket money'sall gone, and I can't get anything out of mamma, because she told me thelast time I went to her, that she couldn't give me any more without papafinding out all about it. So you see there is nobody to help me but you, Elsie, for there's never any use in asking my sisters; they never have acent to spare! Now be a good, obliging girl; come and let me have themoney. "

"Oh! Arthur, you've been gambling; how _could_ you do so?" she exclaimedwith a horrified look. "It is so _very_ wicked! you'll go to ruin, Arthur, if you keep on in such bad ways; do go to grandpa and tell himall about it, and promise never to do so again, and I am sure he willforgive you, and pay your debts, and then you will feel a great dealhappier. "

"Tell papa, indeed; never! I'd _die_ first! Elsie, you _must_ lend me themoney, " he said, seizing her by the wrist. 

"Let go of me, Arthur, " she said, trying to free herself from his grasp. "You are stronger than I am, but you know if you hurt me, papa will besure to find it out. "

He threw her hand from him with a violence that made her stagger, andcatch at the furniture to save herself from falling. 

"Will you give me the money then?" he asked angrily. 

"If I should do so, I would have to put it down in my expense book, andtell papa all about it, because he does not allow me to spend one centwithout telling him just what it went for; and that would be much worsefor you, Arthur, than to go and confess it yourself--a _great deal_worse, I am sure. "

"You could manage it well enough, if you wanted to, " said he, sullenly;"it would be an easy matter to add a few yards to the flannel, and a fewpounds to the tobacco that you bought so much of for the old servants. Just give _me_ your book, and I'll fix it in a minute, and he'll neverfind it out. "

"Arthur!" she exclaimed, "I could _never_ do such a wicked thing! I wouldnot deceive papa so for any money; and even if I did he would be sure tofind it out. "

Some one tried the door. 

Arthur put his hand on the lock; then, turning toward Elsie again, foran instant, shook his fist in her face, muttering, with an oath, that hewould be revenged, and make her sorry for her refusal to the last day ofher life. He then opened the door and went out, leaving poor Elsie pale, and trembling like a leaf. 

The person, whoever it was, that had tried the door had gone away again, and Elsie had a few moments alone to recover herself, before Chloe cameto tell her that her father could not have her with him that morning, asa gentleman had called on business. 

And much as Elsie had always enjoyed that hour, she was almost glad ofthe respite, so fearful was she that her papa would see that somethinghad agitated her, and insist upon knowing what it was. She was very muchtroubled that she had been made the repository of such a secret, andfearful that she ought to tell her father or grandfather, because itseemed so very important that Arthur should be stopped in his evilcourses. But remembering that he had said that her assistance was hisonly hope for escaping detection, she at length decided that she neednot speak about the matter to any one. 

She had a trying time that day, endeavoring to keep the children amused;and her ingenuity and patience were taxed to the utmost to think ofstories and games that would please them all. 

It was still early in the afternoon when she seemed to have got quite tothe end of her list. She was trying to amuse Enna's set, while her threecompanions and Herbert were taking care of themselves. They had sat downon the floor, and were playing jack-stones. 

"Let us play jack-stones, too, " said Flora. "I don't know how; but Elsie, you can teach me, can't you?"

"No, Flora, I cannot indeed, for papa says I must not play that game, because he does not like to have me sit down on the floor, " repliedElsie. "We must try to think of something else. "

"We needn't sit on the floor, need we? Couldn't we play it on the table?"asked Flora. 

"I don't know; perhaps we could; but papa said I mustn't play it, "replied Elsie, shaking her head doubtfully. 

"But maybe he'd let you, if we don't sit on the floor, " persisted thelittle girl. 

Several other little ones joined their entreaties to Flora's, and atlength Elsie said, "Well, I will go and ask papa; perhaps he may let me, if I tell him we are not going to sit on the floor. "

She went to his dressing-room, but he was not there. Next she tried thelibrary, and was more successful; he was in an easy chair by the fire, reading. 

But now that she had found him, Elsie, remembering how often he had toldher never to ask a second time to do what he had once forbidden, was morethan half afraid to prefer her request, and very much inclined to go backwithout doing so. 

But as she stood a moment irresolute, he looked up from his book, andseeing who it was, smiled and held out his hand. 

She went to him then, and said timidly, "Papa, some of the little oneswant me to play jack-stones, to teach them how; may I, if we don't sit onthe floor?"

"Elsie, " he replied, in a tone of great displeasure, "it was only theother day that I positively forbade you to play that game, and, after allthat I have said to you about not asking a second time, it surprises mevery much that you would dare to do it. Go to my dressing-room, and shutyourself into the closet there. "

Elsie burst into tears, as she turned to obey, then, hesitatingly, asked, "May I go down first, papa, and tell the children that I can't come toplay with them?"

"Elsie!" he exclaimed, in his sternest tone; and not daring to utteranother word, trembling and weeping, she hastened from the room, and shutherself up as he had bidden her. 

The closet was large, and there was a stool she could sit on; but whenshe had shut the door, it was both dark and cold. It was a dismal placeto be in, and poor Elsie wondered how long she would have to stay there. 

It seemed a long, long time; so long that she began to think it must benight, and to fear that perhaps her papa had forgotten all about havingsent her there, or that he considered her so very naughty as to deserveto stay there all night. 

But at last she heard his step, and then he opened the door and called, "Elsie!"

"Yes, papa, I am here, " she replied in a trembling voice, full of tears. 

"Come to me, " he said; and then, as he took her hand, "Why, how cold youare, child, " he exclaimed; "I am really sorry you have been so long inthat dismal place. I did not intend to punish you so severely, and shouldnot have kept you there more than half an hour, at the _very longest_;but company came in, and I quite forgot you. "

While speaking thus he had led her up to the fire and sat down with heron his knee. "My poor darling!" he said, "these little hands are verycold, let papa rub them; and are your feet cold too?"

"Yes sir, " she replied, and he pulled off her shoes and stockings, andmoving his chair closer to the fire, held her feet out toward the blaze, and rubbed them in his warm hands. 

"You have been crying a good deal, " he said, looking keenly into herface. 

"Yes, papa, " she replied, dropping her face on his breast and burstinginto tears; "I thought you were going to leave me there all night. "

"Did you? and were you afraid?"

"No, papa, not _afraid_, because I know you would be sleeping in the nextroom; and besides, God could take care of me as well in the closet asanywhere else. Is it getting night, papa, or morning?"

"It is beginning to grow dark, " he said. "But tell me why you cried, ifyou were not afraid. "

"Partly because I was uncomfortable, papa, but more because I was sorryI had been naughty, and displeased you, and afraid that I can never learnto be good. "

"It is very strange, " he remarked, "that you cannot learn not to ask todo what I have forbidden. I shall have to punish you every time you doit; for you _must_ learn that no _means no_, and that you are never tocoax or tease after papa has once said it. I love my little girl verydearly, and want to do all I can to make her happy, but I must have herentirely submissive and obedient to me. But stop crying now, " he added, wiping her eyes with his handkerchief. "Kiss me, and tell me you aregoing to be a good girl, and I will forgive you this time. "

"I will try, papa, " she said, holding up her face for the kiss; "and Iwould not have asked to play that, but the children begged me so, andI thought you only said I mustn't, because you didn't want me to sit onthe floor; and we were going to try it on the table. "

"Did I give that reason?" he asked gravely. 

"No, papa, " she replied, hanging her head. 

"Then you had no right to think so. That _was one_ reason, but not the_only_ one. I have heard it said that that play enlarges the knuckles, and I don't choose to have these little hands of mine robbed of theirbeauty, " he added, playfully raising them to his lips. 

Elsie smiled faintly, then drew a deep sigh. 

"Is it so very hard to give up jack-stones?" he asked. 

"No, papa; I don't care anything about _that_, but I was just thinkinghow very naughty I must be growing; for you have had to punish me twicein one week; and then I have had such a hard day of it--it was sodifficult to amuse the children. I think being up so late last nightmade them feel cross. "

"Ah!" he said, in a sympathizing tone; "and had you all the burden ofentertaining them? Where were Louise and Lora?"

"They are hardly ever with us, papa; we are too little to play with them, they say, and Enna won't do anything her little friends want her to, and"--she paused, and the color rushed over her face with the suddenthought--"I am afraid I am telling tales. "

"And so they put upon you all the trouble of entertaining both your owncompany and theirs, eh? It is shameful! a downright imposition, and Ishall not put up with it!" he exclaimed indignantly. "I shall speak toLora and Louise, and tell them they must do their share of the work. "

"Please, papa, _don't_, " Elsie begged in a frightened tone. "I would agreat deal rather just go on as we have been; they will be so vexed. "

"And suppose they are! they shall not hurt you, " he said, drawing hercloser to him; "and they have no reason to be. I think the children willall want to go to bed early to-night, " he added, "and then you can comehere and sit by me while you copy your letter; shall you like that?"

"Very much, papa, thank you. "

"Well, then we will put on the shoes and stockings again, " he saidpleasantly, "and then you must bathe your eyes, and go to your supper;and, as soon as the others retire, you may come back to me. "

Elsie had to make haste, for the tea-bell rang almost immediately. 

The others were just taking their places at the table when she enteredthe room, and thus, their attention being occupied with the business inhand, she escaped the battery of questions and looks of curiosity whichshe had feared. 

Flora did turn round after a little, to ask: "Why didn't you come back, Elsie; wouldn't your papa let you play?" But Elsie's quiet "no" seemed tosatisfy her, and she made no further remark about it. 

As Mr. Dinsmore had expected, the children were all ready for beddirectly after tea; and then Elsie went to him, and had another quietevening, which she enjoyed so much that she thought it almost made up forall the troubles and trials of the day; for her father, feeling a littleremorseful on account of her long imprisonment in the closet, was, ifpossible, even more than usually tender and affectionate in his mannertoward her. 

The next morning Mr. Dinsmore found an opportunity to remonstrate withhis sisters on their neglect of the little guests, but did it in such away that they had no idea that Elsie had been complaining of them--as, indeed, she had not--but supposed that he had himself noticed theirremissness; and feeling somewhat ashamed of their want of politeness, they went into the children's room after breakfast, and exertedthemselves for an hour or two, for the entertainment of the little ones. It was but a spasmodic effort, however, and they soon grew weary of theexertion, and again let the burden fall upon Elsie. She did the best shecould, poor child, but these were tiresome and trying days from thatuntil New Year's. 

One afternoon Mr. Horace Dinsmore was sitting in his own room, buried inan interesting book, when the door opened and closed again very quietly, and his little girl stole softly to his side, and laying her head on hisshoulder, stood there without uttering a word. 

For hours she had been exerting herself to the utmost to amuse theyoung guests, her efforts thwarted again and again by the petulanceand unreasonableness of Walter and Enna; she had also borne much teasingfrom Arthur, and fault-finding from Mrs. Dinsmore, to whom Enna wascontinually carrying tales, until, at length, no longer able to endureit, she had stolen away to her father to seek for comfort. 

"My little girl is tired, " he said, passing his arm affectionately aroundher, and pressing his lips on her forehead. 

She burst into tears, and sobbed quite violently. 

"Why, what is it, darling? what troubles my own sweet child?" he asked, in a tone of mingled surprise and alarm, as he hastily laid aside hisbook and drew her to his knee. 

"Nothing, papa; at least, nothing very bad; I believe I am very silly, "she replied, trying to smile through her tears. 

"It must have been something, Elsie, " he said, very gravely; "somethingquite serious, I think, to affect you so; tell me what it was, daughter. "

"Please don't ask me, papa, " she begged imploringly. 

"I hate concealments, Elsie, and shall be very much displeased if you trythem with me, " he answered, almost sternly. 

"Dear papa, _don't_ be angry, " she pleaded, in a tremulous tone; "I don'twant to have any concealments from you, but you know I ought not to telltales. You won't _make_ me do it?"

"Is that it?" he said, kissing her. "No, I shall not ask you to telltales, but I am not going to have you abused by anybody, and shall takecare to find out from some one else who it is that annoys you. "

"Oh, papa, please don't trouble yourself about it. I do not mind it atall, now. "

"But _I_ do, " replied her father, "and I shall take care that you are notannoyed in the same way again. "

The tears rose in Elsie's eyes again, and she reproached herself severelyfor allowing her father to see how troubled she had been; but she saidnot another word, for she well knew from his look and tone that it wouldbe worse than useless. 

CHAPTER III. 

"Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter, ere long, back on itself recoils. "

MILTON'S PARADISE LOST. 

"Tis easier for the generous to forgive, Than for offence to ask it. "

THOMSON'S EDMUND AND ELEONORA. 

The last day of the old year had come; the afternoon was bright and warmfor the season, and the little folks at Roselands were unanimously infavor of a long walk. They set out soon after dinner, all in high goodhumor except Arthur, who was moody and silent, occasionally casting anangry glance at Elsie, whom he had not yet forgiven for her refusal tolend him money; but no one seemed to notice it, and for some time nothingoccurred to mar their enjoyment. 

At length, some of the older ones, seeing that the sun was getting low, called to the others that it was time to return, and all turned theirfaces homeward, walking more soberly and silently along than at first, for they were beginning to feel somewhat fatigued. 

They were climbing a steep hill. Elsie and Caroline Howard reached thetop first, Arthur and Harry Carrington being but a few steps behind. 

Elsie stooped to pick up a pebble, and Arthur, darting quickly past her, managed to give her a push that sent her rolling down the bank. She gaveone frightened cry as she fell, and the next instant was lying pale andmotionless at the bottom. 

All was now terror and confusion among the children; the little ones, who all loved Elsie dearly, began to scream and cry. Harry, Lucy, Carry, and Mary, rushed down the path again as fast as they could, andwere soon standing pale and breathless beside the still form of theirlittle companion. Carry was the only one who seemed to have any presenceof mind. She sat down on the ground, and lifting Elsie's head, laid iton her lap, untied her bonnet-strings, and loosened her dress. 

"Jim, " she said to the black boy, who stood blubbering by her side, "runquickly for the doctor. And you, Harry Carrington, go for her father, asfast as you can. Lucy, crying so won't do any good. Haven't some of youa smelling-bottle about you?"

"Yes, yes, here, here! quick! quick! Oh, Carry, say she isn't dead!"cried Mary Leslie, diving into her pocket and bringing out a small bottleof smelling salts that some one had presented her as a Christmas gift. 

"No, she is not dead, Mary; see, she is beginning to open her eyes, "replied Carry, now bursting into tears herself. 

But Elsie opened them only for an instant, moaned as if in great pain, and relapsed again into insensibility, so like death that Carry shudderedand trembled with fear. 

They were not more than a quarter of a mile from the house, but itseemed almost an age to the anxious Carry before Mr. Dinsmore came;although it was in reality but a few moments, as Harry ran very fast, and Mr. Dinsmore sprang into the carriage--which was at the door, someof the party having just returned from a drive--the instant he heard thenews, calling to Harry to accompany him, and bidding the coachman drivedirectly to the spot, with all speed. 

The moment they were off he began questioning the boy closely as to thecause of the accident. Harry could not tell much about it. "She hadfallen down the hill, " he said, "but he did not see what made her fall. "

"Was she much hurt?" Mr. Dinsmore asked, his voice trembling a little inspite of himself. 

Harry "did not know, but feared she was pretty badly injured. "

"Was she insensible?"

"Yes, she was when I left, " Harry said. 

Mr. Dinsmore leaned back in the carriage with a groan and did not speakagain. 

In another moment they had stopped, and flinging open the door, he sprangto the ground, and hurried toward the little group, who were stillgathered about Elsie just as Harry had left them; some looking on withpale, frightened faces, others sobbing aloud. Walter was crying quitebitterly, and even Enna had the traces of tears on her cheeks. As forArthur, he trembled and shuddered at the thought that he was perhapsalready a murderer, and frightened and full of remorse, shrank behindthe others as he saw his brother approach. 

Elsie still lay with her head in Carry's lap. 

Hastily pushing the others aside, Mr. Dinsmore stooped over her, sorrowand intense anxiety written in every line of his countenance. 

Again Elsie opened her eyes, and smiled faintly as she saw him bendingover her. 

"My precious one, " he murmured in a low, moved tone, as he gently liftedher in his arms; "are you much hurt? Are you in pain?"

"Yes, papa, " she answered feebly. 

"Where, darling?"

"My ankle, papa; it pains me terribly; and I think I must have hit myhead, it hurts me so. "

"How did she come to fall?" he asked, looking round upon the littlegroup. 

No one replied. 

"Please, papa, don't ask, " she pleaded in a faint voice. 

He gave her a loving, pitying look, but paid no other heed to herremonstrance. 

"Who was near her?" he asked, glancing sternly around the little circle. 

"Arthur, " said several voices. 

Arthur quailed beneath the terrible glance of his brother's eye, as heturned it upon him, exclaiming bitterly: "Yes, I understand it all, now!I believe you will never be satisfied until you have killed her. "

"Dear papa, please take me home, and don't scold poor Arthur, " pleadedElsie's sweet, gentle voice; "I am not so very badly hurt, and I am surehe is very sorry for me. "

"Yes, darling, " he said, "I will take you home and will try to do sowithout hurting you;" and nothing could exceed the tenderness with whichhe bore her to the carriage, supported her in his arms during the shortride, and on their arrival carried her up to her room and laid her downupon a sofa. 

Jim had brought the doctor, and Mr. Dinsmore immediately requested him tomake a careful examination of the child's injuries. 

He did so, and reported a badly sprained ankle, and a slight bruise onthe head; nothing more. 

"Are you quite sure, doctor, that her spine has sustained no injury?"asked the father anxiously, adding, "there is scarcely anything I shouldso dread for her as that. "

"None whatever, " replied the physician confidently, and Mr. Dinsmorelooked greatly relieved. 

"My back does not hurt me at all, papa; I don't think I struck it, " Elsiesaid, looking up lovingly into his face. 

"How did you happen to fall, my dear?" asked the doctor. 

"If you please, sir, I would rather not tell, " she replied, while thecolor rushed over her face, and then instantly faded away again, leavingher deathly pale. She was suffering great pain, but bearing it bravely. 

The doctor was dressing the injured ankle, and her father sat by the sofaholding her hand. 

"You need not, darling, " he answered, kissing her cheek. 

"Thank you, papa, " she said, gratefully, then whispered, "Won't you staywith me till tea-time, if you are not busy?"

"Yes, daughter, and all the evening, too; perhaps all night. "

She looked her happiness and thanks, and the doctor praised her patienceand fortitude; and having given directions concerning the treatment ofthe wounded limb, bade his little patient good-night, saying he wouldcall again in the morning. 

Mr. Dinsmore followed him to the door. 

"That's a sweet child, Mr. Dinsmore, " he remarked. "I don't know how anyone could have the heart to injure her; but I think there has been foulplay somewhere, and if she were mine I should certainly sift the matterto the bottom. "

"That I shall, you may rest assured, sir; but tell me doctor, do youthink her ankle very seriously injured?"

"Not permanently, I hope; indeed, I feel quite sure of it, if she iswell taken care of, and not allowed to use it too soon; but these sprainsare tedious things, and she will not be able to walk for some weeks. Good-night, sir; don't be too anxious, she will get over it in time, and you may be thankful it is nothing worse. "

"I am, indeed, doctor, " Mr. Dinsmore said, warmly grasping the hand thekind-hearted physician held out to him. 

Everybody was asking what the doctor had said, and how much Elsie wasinjured, and Mr. Dinsmore stepped into the drawing-room a moment toanswer their inquiries, and then hastened back to his child again. 

She looked so glad to see him. 

"My poor little pet, " he said, pityingly, "you will have a sad New Year'sDay, fastened down to your couch; but you shall have as much of mycompany as you wish. "

"Shall I, papa?--then you will have to stay by me all day long. "

"And so I will, dearest, " he said, leaning fondly over her, and strokingback the hair from her forehead. "Are you in much pain now, darling?" heasked, as he noticed a slight contraction of her brow, and an almostdeadly pallor around her mouth. 

"Yes, papa, a good deal, " she answered faintly; "and I feel so weak. Please take me in your arms, papa, I want to lay my head against you. "

He raised her up gently, sat down on the end of the couch where her headhad been, lifted her to his knee, and made Chloe place a pillow for thewounded limb to rest upon. 

"There, darling, is that better?" he asked, soothingly, as she laid herhead wearily down on his breast, and he folded his arms about her. 

"Yes, papa; but, oh, it aches very much, " she sighed. 

"My poor little daughter! my poor little pet!" he said, in a deeplycompassionate tone, "it is so hard to see you suffer; I would gladly takeyour pain and bear it for you if I could. "

"Oh, no, dear papa, I would much rather bear it myself, " she answeredquickly. 

The tea-bell rang, and Elsie half started up. 

"Lie still, dearest, " her father said. "I am in no hurry for my tea, soyou shall have yours first, and I will hold you while you eat it. Whatwill you have? You may ask for anything you want. "

"I don't know, papa; whatever you please. "

"Well, then, Aunt Chloe, go down and bring up whatever good things arethere, and she can take her choice. Bring a cup of hot tea, too, I thinkit may do her good to-night. "

"Thank you, dear papa, you are so kind, " Elsie said, gratefully. 

When the carriage had driven off with Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie, the restof the young party at once turned their steps toward the house; Arthurskulking in the rear, and the others eagerly discussing the accident asthey went. 

"Arthur pushed her down, I am _sure_ he did, " said Lucy, positively. "Ibelieve he hates her like poison, and he has been at her about somethingthe several days past--I know it just by the way I've seen him look ather--yes, ever since the morning after the Carleton party. And now Iremember I heard his voice talking angrily in her room that very morning. I went to get a book I had left in there, and when I tried the door itwas locked, and I went away again directly. "

"But what has that to do with Elsie's fall?" asked Mary Leslie. 

"Why, don't you see that it shows there was some trouble between them, and that Arthur had a _motive_ for pushing her down, " returned Lucy, somewhat impatiently. "Really, Mary, you seem quite stupid sometimes. "

Mary looked hurt. 

"I don't know how any one could be so wicked and cruel; especially tosuch a dear, sweet little girl as Elsie, " remarked Carry Howard. 

"No, nor I, " said Harry; "but the more I think about it the more certainI feel that Arthur did really push her down; for now I rememberdistinctly where she stood, and it seems to me she could not possiblyhave fallen of herself. Besides it was evident enough that Arthur feltguilty from the way he acted when Mr. Dinsmore came, and when he spoketo him. But perhaps he did not do it quite on purpose. "

"Oh!" exclaimed Mary, "I do think I should be frightened to death if Mr. Dinsmore should look at me as he did at Arthur. "

"Looks can't hurt, " observed Harry, wisely; "but I wouldn't be inArthur's shoes just now for considerable; because I'll venture to say Mr. Dinsmore will do something a good deal worse than _look_, before he isdone with him. "

When they reached the house Lucy went directly to her mamma's room. Herbert, who was more ailing than usual that day, lay on a sofa, whilehis mamma sat by his side, reading to him. They had not heard of theaccident, and were quite startled by Lucy's excited manner. 

"Oh, mamma!" she cried, jerking off her bonnet, and throwing herselfdown on a stool at her mother's feet, "we have had such a dreadfulaccident, or hardly an _accident_ either, for I feel perfectly certainArthur did it on purpose; and I just expect he'll kill her some day, the mean, wicked boy!" and she burst into tears. "If I were Mr. DinsmoreI'd have him put in jail, so I would, " she sobbed. 

"Lucy, my child, what _are_ you talking about?" asked her mother with alook of mingled surprise and alarm, while Herbert started up asking, "Isit Elsie? Oh! Lucy, is she much hurt?"

"Yes, " sobbed Lucy, "we all thought she was dead, it was so long beforeshe spoke, or moved, or even opened her eyes. "

Herbert was crying, too, now, as bitterly as his sister. 

"But, Lucy dear, " said her mother, wiping her eyes, "you haven't toldus anything yet. Where did it happen? What did Arthur do? And where ispoor little Elsie now?"

"Her papa brought her home, and Jim went for the doctor, and they'redoing something with her now in her own room--for Pomp said Mr. Dinsmorecarried her right up there! Oh I mamma, if you had seen him look atArthur!"

"But what did Arthur do?" asked Herbert anxiously. 

"He pushed her down that steep hill that you remember you were afraid totry to climb the other day; at least we all think he did. "

"But surely, he did not do it intentionally, " said Mrs. Carrington, "for why should he wish to harm such a sweet, gentle little creatureas Elsie?"

"Oh! mamma, " exclaimed Herbert, suddenly matching hold of her hand and hegrew very pale, and almost gasped for breath. 

"What is it, Herbert dear, what is it?" she asked in alarm; for he hadfallen back on his pillow, and seemed almost ready to faint. 

"Mamma, " he said with a shudder, "mamma, I believe I know. Oh! why didn'tI speak before, and, perhaps, poor little Elsie might have been saved allthis. "

"Why, Herbert, what can _you_ know about it?" she asked in extremesurprise. 

"I will tell you, mama, as well as I can, " he said, "and then you musttell me what I ought to do. You know, mamma, I went out to walk with therest the afternoon after that party at Mr. Carleton's; for if youremember, I had stayed at home the night before, and gone to bed veryearly, and so I felt pretty well and able to walk. But Elsie was notwith us. I don't know where she could have been; she always thinks of mylameness, and walks slowly when I am along, but this time they all walkedso fast that I soon grew very tired, indeed, with trying to keep up. SoI sat down on a log to rest. Well, mamma, I had not been there very longwhen I heard voices near me, on the other side of some bushes, that, Isuppose, must have prevented them from seeing me. One voice was Arthur's, but the other I didn't know. I didn't want to be listening, but I was tootired to move on; so I whistled a little, to let them know I was there;they didn't seem to care, though, but went on talking quite loud, so loudthat I could not help hearing almost every word; and so I soon learnedthat Arthur owed Dick Percival a gambling debt--a debt of _honor_, theycalled it--and had sent this other boy, whom Arthur called Bob, to try tocollect it. He reminded Arthur that he had promised to pay that day, andsaid Dick must have it to pay some debts of his own. 

"Arthur acknowledged that he had promised, expecting to borrow the moneyfrom somebody. I didn't hear the name, and it never struck me until thismoment who it was; but it must have been Elsie, for I recollect he saidshe wouldn't lend him anything without telling Horace all about it, andthat, you know, is Mr. Dinsmore's name; and I have found out that Arthuris very much afraid of him; almost more than of his father, I think. 

"He talked very angrily, saying he knew that was only an excuse, becauseshe didn't wish to do him a favor, and he'd pay her for it some day. Thenthey talked about the debt again, and finally the boy agreed that Dickwould wait until New Year's Day, when Arthur said he would receive hismonthly allowance, and so would certainly be able to pay it. 

"Now, mamma, " concluded Herbert, "what ought I to do? Do you think it ismy duty to tell Arthur's father?"

"Yes, Herbert, I do, " said Mrs. Carrington, "because it is very importantthat he should know of his son's evil courses, that he may put a stop tothem; and besides, if Arthur should escape punishment this time, Elsiemay be in danger from him again. I am sorry it happened to be you ratherthan some other person who overheard the conversation; but it cannot behelped, and we must do our duty always, even though we find it difficultand disagreeable, and feel afraid that our motives may be misconstrued. "

Herbert drew a deep sigh. 

"Well, mamma, must I go just now, to tell him?" he asked, looking paleand troubled. 

Mrs. Carrington seemed to be considering the matter for a moment. 

"No, my dear, " she said; "I think we had better wait a little. ProbablyMr. Dinsmore will make an investigation, and perhaps he may be able toget at the truth without your assistance; and if not, as the mischief isalready done, it will be time enough for your story to-morrow. "

Herbert looked a good deal relieved, and just then they were summoned totea. 

The elder Mr. Dinsmore had been out all the afternoon, and not returninguntil just as the bell rang for tea, heard nothing of Elsie's injuryuntil after he had taken his seat at the table. 

The children had all reported that Arthur had pushed her down, and thusthe story was told to his father. The old gentleman was very angry, forhe had a great contempt for such cowardly deeds; and said before all theguests that if it were so, Arthur should be severely punished. 

Mr. Horace Dinsmore came down as the rest were about leaving the table. 

"I should like to have a few moments' conversation with you, Horace, whenyou have finished your tea, " his father said, lingering behind theothers. 

"It is just what I wish, sir, " replied his son; "I will be with youdirectly. Shall I find you in the library?"

"Yes. I hope the child was not hurt, Horace?" he added, inquiringly, stepping back again just as he had reached the door. 

"Pretty badly, I am afraid, " said Mr. Dinsmore, gravely; "she issuffering a good deal. "

Mr. Dinsmore was not long at the table, for he was anxious to get back tohis child; yet his father, whom he found striding back and forth acrossthe library, in a nervous, excited way, hailed him with the impatientexclamation, "Come at last, Horace, I thought you would never have doneeating. "

Then throwing himself into a chair, "Well, what is to be done about thisbad business?" he asked. "Is it true that Arthur had a hand in it?"

"I have not a doubt of it myself, sir, " replied his son. "They all agreethat he was close to her when she fell, and neither he nor she deniesthat he pushed her; she only begs not to be forced to speak, and hesays nothing. 

"And now, father, I have fully made up my mind that either that boymust be sent away to school, or I must take Elsie and make a home forher elsewhere. "

"Why, Horace! that is a sudden resolution, is it not?"

"No, father, not so much as it seems. I have suspected, for some timepast, that Elsie had a good deal to bear from Arthur and Enna--to saynothing of an older person, to whom Enna is continually carrying tales. Elsie is too generous to tell tales, too meek and patient to complain, and so it has been only very gradually that I have learned how much ofpetulance, tyranny, and injustice she has had to endure from those fromwhom she certainly had a right to expect common kindness, if notaffection. 

"Yesterday afternoon she came to me in such a state of nervous excitementas convinced me that something had gone very much amiss with her, butwhat it was I did not know, for she seemed unwilling to tell, and I wouldnot force her to do so. 

"However, by putting a few questions to some of the little guests, I havesince learned enough to fill me with indignation at the treatment towhich my child has been subjected, even during the last two weeks; andnow the occurrences of this afternoon have put the finishing stroke toall this, and I cannot any longer feel that my child is safe where Arthuris. It is a great mercy that she escaped being killed or crippled forlife, " and he dropped his face into his hands and shuddered. 

"Don't, Horace, my son, " his father said kindly, laying his hand on hisshoulder. "I don't like to see you give way so. It is not worth whiletroubling ourselves about what _might_ have been, and we will takemeasures to prevent such occurrences in the future. 

"But you mustn't think of leaving us to set up a separate establishment, unless you are intending to marry again, and I don't believe you are. "

Mr. Dinsmore shook his head. 

"Nothing of the kind, " he said; "but I must protect my child; she has noone else to look to for protection, or sympathy, or love--my poor littleone!--and it would be hard indeed if she could not have them from me. "

"So it would, Horace, certainly. I am afraid we have none of us treatedthe poor little thing quite as kindly as we might, but I really was notaware that she had been so much abused, and shall certainly speakto Mrs. Dinsmore about it. And Arthur shall be sent away to school, asyou have suggested. It is what I have been wanting to do for some time, for he is getting quite beyond Miss Day; but his mother has alwaysopposed it, and I have foolishly given up to her for peace sake. I setmy foot down now, however, and he _shall go_. He deserves it richly, theyoung rascal! such a base, cowardly act as to attack a little girl, big, strong boy that he is! I'm ashamed of him. You, Horace, were a wild, headstrong fellow, but I never knew you do a _mean_ or _cowardly_ thing;you were always above it. "

"I hope so, indeed, sir. But now, to go back to the present business, doyou not think it would be well to call all the young people together andhave a thorough investigation of this affair? I have promised Elsie thatshe shall not be forced to speak, but I hope we may be able to learn fromthe others all that we need to know. "

"Yes, yes, Horace, we will do so at once!" replied his father, ringingthe bell. "They must be all through with their tea by this time, and wewill invite them into the drawing-room, and cross-question them until weget to the bottom of the whole thing. "

A servant answered the bell, and received directions to request--on hismaster's behalf--all the guests, both old and young, as well as everymember of the family, to give their attendance in the drawing-room fora few moments. 

"Stay, father, " said Horace, "possibly Arthur might be induced toconfess, and so spare himself and us the pain of a public exposure; hadwe not better send for him first?"

His father assented, and the servant was ordered to go in search ofArthur, and bring him to the library. 

Arthur had been expecting such a summons, and had quite made up his mindwhat to do. 

"Confess!" he said to himself; "no, indeed, I'll not! nobody but Elsieknows that I did it, and she'll never tell; so I'll stick to it that itwas only an accident. "

He came in with a look of sullen, dogged determination on hiscountenance, and stood before his father and brother with folded arms, and an air of injured innocence. He was careful, however, not to meethis brother's eye. 

"Arthur, " began his father, sternly, "this is shameful, cowardlybehavior, utterly unworthy of a son of mine--this unprovoked assaultupon a defenceless little girl. It has always been considered a cowardlyact to attack one weaker than ourselves. "

"I _didn't_ do it! she slipped and fell of herself, " replied the boyfiercely, speaking through his clenched teeth. 

"Arthur, " said his brother, in a calm, firm tone, "the alternative beforeyou is a frank and full confession here in private, or a disgraceful, public exposure in the drawing-room. You had better confess, for I havenot the least doubt of your guilty because I well know that Elsie wouldhave asserted your innocence, had she been able to do so with truth. "

"She _wouldn't_; she hates me, " muttered the boy; "yes, and I hate her, too, " he added, almost under his breath. But his brother's quick earcaught the words. 

"Yes, " he answered, bitterly; "you have given full proof of that; but_never_, while I live, shall you have another opportunity to wreak yourhellish rage upon her. "

But threats and persuasions were alike powerless to move Arthur'sstubborn will; for, trusting to their supposed inability to prove hisguilt, he persisted in denying it; and at length, much against hisinclination, was forced to accompany his father and brother to thedrawing-room, where the entire household was already assembled. 

There was a good deal of excitement and whispering together, especiallyamongst the younger portion of the assembly, and many conjectures as tothe cause of their being thus called together; nearly all giving it astheir decided opinion that Elsie's accident had something to do with it. 

Herbert was looking pale and nervous, and kept very close to his mamma, Harry Carrington and Carrie Howard were grave and thoughtful, whileLucy and Mary seemed restless and excited, and the lesser ones full ofcuriosity and expectation. There was quite a little buzz all over theroom as the two gentlemen and Arthur entered, but it died away instantly, and was succeeded by an almost death-like stillness, broken the nextmoment by the elder Mr. Dinsmore's voice, as he briefly stated his objectin thus calling them together, and earnestly requested any one presentwho could throw the least light on the subject, to speak. 

He paused, and there was a moment of profound silence. 

"Who was nearest to Elsie when she fell?" he asked; "can any one tellme?"

"Arthur, sir, " replied several voices. 

Another pause. 

"Who else was near her?" he asked. "Miss Carrie Howard, I have noticedthat you and Elsie are usually together; can you tell me if she couldhave fallen of herself? Were you near enough to see?"

Carrie answered reluctantly: "Yes, sir; I had stepped from her side atthe moment she stooped to pick up something, and feel quite certain thatshe was not near enough to the edge to have fallen of herself. "

"Thank you for your frank reply. And now, Master Harry Carrington, Ithink I heard some one say you were quite close to Arthur at the time ofElsie's fall; can you tell me what he did to her? You will confer a greatfavor by answering with equal frankness. "

"I would much rather have been excused from saying anything, sir, "replied Harry, coloring and looking as if he wished himself a thousandmiles away; "but since you request it, I will own that I was close toArthur, and think he must have pushed Elsie in springing past her, butit may have been only an accident. "

"I fear not, " said the old gentleman, looking sternly at his son. "Andnow, does any one know that Elsie had vexed Arthur in any way, or thathe had any unkind feelings toward her?"

"Yes, papa, " Walter spoke up suddenly. "I heard Arthur, the otherday, talking very crossly about Elsie, and threatening to pay her forsomething; but I didn't understand what. "

Mr. Dinsmore's frown was growing darker, and Arthur began to tremble andturn pale. He darted a fierce glance at Walter, but the little fellow didnot see it. 

"Does any one know what Elsie had done?" was the next question. 

No one spoke, and Herbert fidgeted and grew very pale. Mr. HoraceDinsmore noticed it, and begged him if he knew anything to tell it atonce; and Herbert reluctantly repeated what he had already told hismother of the conversation in the woods; and as he concluded, Loradrew a note from her pocket, which she handed to her father, saying thatshe had picked it up in the school-room, from a pile of rubbish whichArthur had carelessly thrown out of his desk. 

Mr. Dinsmore took it, glanced hastily over the contents, and with agroan, exclaimed: "Is it possible!--a gambler already! Arthur, has itreally come to this?

"Go to your room, sir, " he added, sternly, "there to remain in solitaryconfinement until arrangement can be made to send you to school at adistance from the home which shall be no longer polluted by yourpresence; for you are unworthy to mingle with the rest of the family. "

Arthur obeyed in sullen silence, and his father, following, turned thekey upon him, and left him to solitude and his own reflections. 

"Did my little daughter think papa had quite forgotten his promise?"asked Mr. Horace Dinsmore, as again he stood by Elsie's couch. 

"No, papa, " she said, raising her eyes to his face with a grateful, loving look; "it seemed very long, but I knew you would come as soon asyou could, for I know you never break your word. "

Her confidence pleased him very much, and with a very gratified look heasked whether he should sit by her side or take her again upon his knee. 

"Take me on your knee again, if you please, papa, " she said, "and thenwill you read a little to me? I would like it so much. "

"I will do anything that will give my little girl pleasure, " he replied, as he once more lifted her gently, and placed her in the desiredposition. 

"What shall the book be?" he asked; "one of the new ones I bought you theother day?"

"Not that, to-night; if you please, papa; I would rather hear a littlefrom an old book, " she answered, with a sweet smile lighting tip herlittle pale face; "won't you please read me the fifty-third chapter ofIsaiah?"

"If you wish it, dearest; but I think something lively would be muchbetter; more likely to cheer you up. "

"No, dear papa; there is nothing cheers me up like the Bible, it is sosweet and comforting. I do so love to hear of Jesus, how he bore ourgriefs and carried our sorrows. "

"You are a strange child, " he said, "but you shall have whatever you wantto-night. Hand me that Bible, Aunt Chloe, and set the light a littlenearer. "

Mr. Dinsmore was an uncommonly fine reader, and Elsie lay listening tothat beautiful passage of Holy Writ, as one might listen to strains ofthe softest, sweetest music. 

"Now, dear papa, the twenty-third of Luke, if you please, " she said, whenhe had finished. 

He turned to it, and read it without any remark. 

As he closed the book and laid it aside, he saw that tears were tremblingon the long, silken lashes that rested on the fair young cheek; for hereyes were closed, and but for those tell-tale drops he would have thoughther sleeping. 

"I feared it would make you sad, darling, " he said, brushing them away, and kissing her fondly. 

"No, dear papa, _oh, no_!" she answered, earnestly; "thank you very muchfor reading it; it has made me feel a great deal better. "

"Why did you select those particular passages?" he asked, with somecuriosity. 

"Because, papa, they are all about Jesus, and tell how meekly andpatiently he bore sorrow and suffering. Oh, papa, if I could only belike him! I am not much like him, but it makes it easier to forgive andto be patient, and kind, and gentle, when we read about him, how good hewas, and how he forgave his murderers. "

"You are thinking of Arthur, " he said. "_I_ shall find it very hard toforgive him; can _you_ do so?"

"Yes, papa, I think I can. I have been praying for him, and have askedGod to help me to forgive and love him. "

"He has treated you very badly; I know all about it now. "

And then, in answer to her surprised, inquiring look, he proceeded togive her an account of all that had taken place that evening in thelibrary and drawing-room. 

"And he hates me, papa, " she said, mournfully, the tears filling hereyes; "why should he feel so? I have always tried to be kind to him. "

"Yes, I know it, " he replied, "you have often done him kindnesses, andI know of no other cause for his enmity, unless it is that you havesometimes been obliged to bear witness against him. "

"Yes, papa, on several occasions when he was putting all the blame of hisnaughty deeds on little Walter, or poor Jim. "

"You were perfectly right, " he said, caressing her; "and he will not haveanother opportunity to vent his spite upon you, as he is to be sent awayto boarding-school immediately. "

"Oh, papa!" she exclaimed, "I am so sorry for him, poor fellow! It mustbe so dismal to go off alone among strangers. Dear papa, _do_ ask grandpato forgive him, just this once; and I don't believe he will ever behaveso again. "

"No, daughter, I shall not do anything of the kind, " he answered, decidedly. "I think it will be for Arthur's own good to be sent away, where he will not have his mother to spoil him by indulgence; andbesides, I cannot feel that _you_ are safe while he is about the house, and I consider it my first duty to take care of you; therefore, I haveinsisted upon its that either _he_ must be sent away, or you and I mustgo and make a home for ourselves somewhere else. "

"Oh, papa, how delightful that would be, to have a home of our own!" sheexclaimed eagerly; "_will_ you do it some day?"

"Should you like it so much?" he asked. 

"Oh, yes, papa, so very, _very_ much! When will you do it, papa?"

"I don't know, darling; some day, if we both live; perhaps when you areold enough to be my housekeeper. "

"But that will be such a long, long time to wait, papa, " she said--theeager, joyous expression fading away from her face, and the pale, weariedlook coming back again. 

"Perhaps we will not wait for that, darling; I did not say that wewould, " he replied, in a soothing tone, as he passed his hand caressinglyover her hair and cheek. 

Then he added, a little mischievously, "I think, possibly, I might induceMiss Stevens to keep house for us. Shall I ask her?"

"Oh, papa, no; that would spoil it all, " she said, with a blush and alook of surprise; "and besides, I'm sure Miss Stevens would feel insultedif anybody should ask her to go out as housekeeper. "

"No, I think not, if _I_ asked her, " laughed Mr. Dinsmore; "but you neednot be alarmed; I have no notion of doing it. 

"Now, daughter, I shall bathe your ankle with that liniment again, andput you in bed, and you must try to go to sleep. "

"My prayers first, papa, you know, " she replied, making an effort to getdown upon the floor. 

But he held her fast. 

"No, daughter, you are not able to kneel to-night, " he said, "andtherefore it is not required; the posture makes but little difference, since God looks not at it, but at your heart. "

"I know that, papa, but I ought to kneel if I can; and if I may, I wouldmuch rather try. "

"No, I shall not allow you to do so; it would not be right, " he replieddecidedly; "you may say them here, while I have you in my arms, or afterI have put you in bed. "

"Then I will say them in my bed, papa, " she answered submissively. 

She was very patient and quiet while her father and nurse dressed herankle, and prepared her for bed, and when he had laid her in and coveredher up, he sat down beside her and listened to the low, murmured words ofher prayer. 

"I think you prayed for me as well as for Arthur, " he remarked when shehad done; "what did you request for me?"

"I asked, as I always do, that you might love Jesus, papa, and be veryhappy, indeed, both in this world and the next. "

"Thank you, " he said, "but why are you so anxious that I should love him?It would not trouble _me_ if _you_ did not, so long as you loved andobeyed me. "

A tear trickled down her cheek and fell upon the pillow as she answered, in a half tremulous tone: "Because I know, papa, that no one can go toheaven who does not love Jesus, nor ever be really happy anywhere, forthe Bible says so. Papa, you always punish me when I am disobedient toyou, and the Bible says God is our Father and will punish us if we do notobey him; and one of his commands is: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God;and in another place it says: Every one that loveth him that begat lovethhim also that is begotten of him. "

He did not reply, and his countenance was almost stern in its deepgravity. 

Elsie feared she had displeased him. 

"Dear papa, " she said, stretching out her little hand to him, "I amafraid I have said things to you that I ought not; are you angry withme?"

"No, daughter, " he replied, as he bent down and kissed her cheek; "butyou must not talk any more to-night. I want you to shut your eyes and goto sleep. "

She threw her arm around his neck and returned his caress, saying, "Good-night, dear, _dear_ papa; I do love you _so_ much;" then turnedaway her face, shut her eyes, and in a few moments was sleeping sweetly. 

The next morning quite a number of the little folks begged leave to goin after breakfast to see Elsie, and as she seemed much better--indeed, quite well, except that she could not put her foot to the floor--Mr. Dinsmore gave a ready consent. 

They found Elsie dressed and lying upon a sofa, with the lame foot on apillow. She seemed very glad to see them, looked as smiling and cheerfulas if nothing ailed her; and to all their condolences replied that shedid not mind it very much; she was doing nicely--papa and everybody elsewas so kind--and the doctor said he hoped she would be able to run aboutagain in a few weeks. 

They were all around her, talking and laughing in a very animated way, when Mr. Dinsmore came in, and going up to her couch, said, "Elsie, daughter, I have an errand to the city this morning; but, as I havepromised to give you all you want of my company to-day, I will commissionsome one else to do it, if you are not willing to spare me for a coupleof hours; do you think you could do without your papa that long? It shallbe just as you say. "

"You know I love dearly to have you by me, papa, " she answered, smilingup into his face; "but I will be quite satisfied with whatever you do, because you always know best. "

"Spoken like my own little girl, " he said, patting her cheek. "Well, thenI will leave these little folks to entertain you for a short time; and Ithink you will not be sorry, when I return, that you left it to me to doas I think best. Kiss papa good-bye, darling. Aunt Chloe, take good careof her, and don't let her be _fatigued_ with company. "

He turned to look at her again, as he reached the door, and Elsie gailykissed her hand to him. 

Before long, Chloe, seeing that her young charge was beginning to lookweary, sent away all the little folks except Herbert, who, at Elsie'srequest, remained with her, and seated in her little rocking-chair, close by her side, did his best to amuse her and make her forget herpain, sometimes reading aloud to her, and sometimes stopping to talk. 

Many an hour Elsie had spent by his couch of suffering, reading, talkingor singing to him, and he rejoiced now in the opportunity afforded him toreturn some of her past kindness. 

They had always been fond of each other's society, too, and the timepassed so quickly and pleasantly that Mr. Dinsmore's return, only a verylittle sooner than he had promised, took them quite by surprise. 

Herbert noticed that he had a bundle in his hand, and thinking it wasprobably some present for Elsie, and that they might like to be alone, slipped quietly away to his mamma's room. 

"What is that, papa?" Elsie asked. 

"A New Year's gift for my little girl, " he answered, with a smile, as helaid it down by her side. "But I know you are tired lying there; so Iwill take you on my knee, and then you shall open it. "

She looked quite as eager and interested as he could have wished, as hesettled her comfortably on his knee, and laid the bundle in her lap. Herhands trembled with excitement and haste, as she untied the string, andwith an exclamation of joyful surprise, brought to light a large and verybeautiful wax doll. 

"Oh, _papa_, how _pretty_!" she cried, in ecstasy. "And it is as largeas a real, live baby, and has such a sweet, dear little face, and suchpretty little hands, just like a real baby's--and the dearest littletoes, too, " she added, kissing them. "I love it already, the little dear!and how prettily it is dressed, too, like a little baby-girl. "

He enjoyed her pleasure intensely. 

"But you have not come to the bottom of your bundle yet, " he said; "seehere!" and he showed her quite a pile of remnants of beautiful lawns, muslins, silk, etc. , which he had bought to be made up into clothing forthe doll. 

"I did not buy them ready made, " he said, "because I thought you wouldenjoy making them yourself. "

"Oh, how nice, papa. Yes, indeed, I shall enjoy it, and you are so _very_good and kind to me, " she said, holding up her face for a kiss. "Now, with you beside me, and plenty to do making pretty things for this dearnew dolly, I think I shall hardly mind at all having to stay in the houseand keep still. I'll call her Rose, papa, mayn't I? for dear MissAllison. "

"Call it what you like, darling; it is all your own, " he replied, laughing at the question. 

"I'm its mother, ain't I?--and then you must be its grandfather!" sheexclaimed, with a merry laugh, in which he joined her heartily. 

"You ought to have some gray hairs, papa, like other grandfathers, " shewent on, running her fingers through his hair. "Do you know, papa, CarryHoward says she thinks it is so funny for me to have such a young father;she says you don't look a bit older than her brother Edward, who has justcome home from college. How old are you, papa?"

"You are not quite nine, and I am just about eighteen years older; canyou make that out now?"

"Twenty-seven, " she answered, after a moment's thought; then, shaking herhead a little, "that's pretty old, I think, after all. But I'm glad youhaven't got gray hairs and wrinkles, like Carry's papa, " she added, putting her arms around his neck, and laying her head down on his breast. "I think it is nice to have such a young, handsome father. "

"I think it is very nice to have a dear little daughter to love me, " hesaid, pressing her to his heart. 

Elsie was eager to show her new doll to Carry and Lucy, and presentlysent Chloe to invite them to pay her another visit. 

"Bring Mary Leslie, too, mammy, if she will come; but be sure not to tellany of them what I have got, " she said. 

Chloe found them all three in the little back parlor, looking as ifthey did not know what to do with themselves, and Elsie's invitationwas hailed with smiles and exclamations of delight. 

They all admired the doll extremely, and Carry, who had a great tastefor cutting and fitting, seized upon the pile of silks and muslins, exclaiming eagerly, that she should like no better fun than to helpElsie make some dresses. 

"Oh, yes!" cried Lucy, "let us all help, for once in my life I'm tired todeath of play, and I'd like to sit down quietly and work at these prettythings. "

"I, too, " said Mary, "if Elsie is willing to trust us not to spoil them, "

"Indeed, _I'll_ not spoil them, Miss Mary; I've made more dolls' clothesthan a few, " remarked Carry, with a little toss of her head. 

"I am not at all afraid to trust you, Carry, nor the others either, "Elsie hastened to say; "and shall be very glad of your assistance. "

Work-boxes were now quickly produced, and scissors and thimbles set inmotion. 

Mr. Dinsmore withdrew to the other side of the room, and took up a book;thus relieving the little ladies from the constraint of his presence, while at the same time he could keep an eye upon Elsie, and see that shedid not over-fatigue herself with company or work. 

"What a nice time we have had, " remarked Mary Leslie, folding up herwork as the dinner-bell rang. "May we come back this afternoon, Elsie?I'd like to finish this apron, and I'm to go home to-morrow. "

Mr. Dinsmore answered for his little girl, "When Elsie has had an hour torest, Miss Mary, she will be glad to see you all again. "

"Yes, do come, girls, " Elsie added, "if you are not tired of work. I amsorry that you must go to-morrow, Mary. Carry and Lucy, _you_ are not toleave us so soon, are you?"

"No, " they both replied, "we stay till Saturday afternoon. And intend tomake dolly two or three dresses before we go, if her mother will let us, "Carry added, laughingly, as she put away her thimble and ran after theothers. 

All the guests left the next morning, excepting the Carringtons andCaroline Howard, and the house seemed very quiet--even in Elsie's room, where the little girls were sewing--while Harry and Herbert took turns inreading aloud; and in this way they passed the remainder of their visitvery pleasantly, indeed. 

Elsie felt her confinement more when Sabbath morning came, and she couldnot go to church, than she had at all before. Her father offered to stayat home with her, remarking that she must feel very lonely now that allher little mates were gone; but she begged him to go to church, sayingthat she could employ herself in reading while he was away, and thatwould keep her from being lonely, and then they could have all theafternoon and evening together. So he kissed her good-bye, and left herin Chloe's care. 

She was sitting on his knee that evening; she had been singing hymns--heaccompanying her sweet treble with his deep bass notes; then for a whileshe had talked to him in her own simple, childlike way, of what she hadbeen reading in her Bible and the "Pilgrim's Progress, " asking him aquestion now and then, which, with all his learning and worldly wisdom, he was scarcely as capable of answering as herself. But now she had beenfor some minutes sitting perfectly silent, her head resting upon hisbreast, and her eyes cast down, as if in deep thought, He had been studying with some curiosity the expression of the littleface, which was much graver than its wont, and at length he startled herfrom her reverie with the question, "What is my little girl thinkingabout?"

"I was thinking, papa, that if you will let me, I should like very muchto give Arthur a nice present before he goes away. May I?"

"You may if you wish, " he said, stroking her hair. 

"Oh, thank you, papa, " she answered joyously, "I was half afraid youwould not let me; then, if you please, won't you, the next time you go tothe city, buy the very handsomest pocket Bible you can find?--and then, if you will write his name and mine in it, and that it is a token ofaffection from me, I will be so much obliged to you, dear papa. "

"I will do so, daughter, but I am afraid Arthur will not feel muchgratitude to you for such a present. "

"Perhaps he may like it pretty well, papa, if it is _very handsomely_bound, " she said, rather doubtfully; "at any rate I should like to try. When does he go, papa?"

"Day after to-morrow, I believe. "

"I wish he would come in for a few minutes to see me, and say good-bye;do you think he will, papa?"

"I am afraid not, " replied her father, shaking his head; "however, I willask him. But why do you wish to see him?"

"I want to tell him that I am not at all vexed or angry with him, andthat I feel very sorry for him, because he is obliged to go away allalone amongst strangers, poor fellow!" she sighed. 

"You need not waste any sympathy on him, my dear, " said her father, "forI think he rather likes the idea of going off to school. "

"Does he, papa? Why, how strange!" exclaimed the little girl, lost inastonishment. 

As Mr. Dinsmore had predicted, Arthur utterly refused to go near Elsie;and, at first, seemed disposed to decline her gift; but at length, onLora suggesting that he might require a Bible for some of his schoolexercises, he accepted it, as Elsie had thought he might, on account ofthe handsome binding. 

Elsie was hurt and disappointed that he would not come to see her; sheshed a few quiet tears over his refusal, because she thought it showedthat he still disliked her, and then wrote him a little note, breathingforgiveness, sisterly affection, and regard for his welfare. But the notewas not answered, and Arthur went away without showing any signs ofsorrow for his unkind treatment of her; nor, indeed, for any of his badconduct. 

Miss Day had returned, and the rest of her pupils now resumed theirstudies; but Elsie was, of course, quite unable to attend in theschool-room, as her ankle was not yet in a condition to be used in theleast. Her father said nothing to her about lessons, but allowed her toamuse herself as she liked with reading, or working for the doll. She, however, was growing weary of play, and wanted to go back to her books. 

"Papa, " she said to him one morning, "I am quite well now, excepting mylameness, and you are with me a great deal every day, may I not learn mylessons and recite them to you?"

"Certainly, daughter, if you wish it, " he replied, looking much pleased;"I shall consider it no trouble, but, on the contrary, a very greatpleasure to teach you, if you learn your lessons well, as I am sure youwill. "

Elsie promised to be diligent, and from that day she went on with herstudies as regularly as if she had been in school with the others. 

She felt her confinement very much at times, and had a great longing forthe time when she could again mount her pony, and take long rides andwalks in the sweet fresh air; but she was not often lonely, for her papamanaged to be with her a great deal, and she never cared for any othercompanion when he was by. Then, Mr. Travilla came in frequently to seeher, and always brought a beautiful bouquet, or some fine fruit from hishot-house, or some other little nicety to tempt an invalid's appetite, orwhat she liked, even better still, a new book. Her aunts Adelaide andLora, too, felt very kindly toward her, coming in occasionally to ask howshe was, and to tell her what was going on in the house; and sometimesWalter brought his book to ask her to help him with his lessons, whichshe was always ready to do, and then he would sit and talk a while, telling her what had occurred in the school-room, or in their walks orrides, and expressing his regret on account of the accident thatprevented her from joining them as usual. 

Her doll, too, was a great source of amusement to her, and she valuedit very highly, and was so extremely careful of it that she hardlyfelt willing to trust it out of her own hands, lest it should be broken. Especially was she annoyed when Enna, who was a very careless child, wished to take it; but it was a dangerous thing to refuse Enna'srequests, except when Mr. Dinsmore was by, and so Elsie always endeavoredto get the doll out of sight when she heard her coming. 

But one unfortunate afternoon Enna came in quite unexpectedly, just asElsie finished dressing it in a new suit, which she had completed only afew moments before. 

"Oh, Elsie, how pretty it looks!" she cried. "Do let me take it on my lapa little while. I won't hurt it a bit. "

Elsie reluctantly consented, begging her to be very careful, "because, Enna, " she said, "you know if you should let it fall, it would certainlybe broken. "

"You needn't be afraid, " replied Enna, pettishly, "I guess I can takecare of a doll as well as you. "

She drew up Elsie's little rocking-chair, as she spoke, and taking thedoll from her, sat down with it in her arms. 

Elsie watched nervously every movement she made, in momentary dread of acatastrophe. 

They were alone in the room, Chloe having gone down to the kitchen onsome errand. 

For a few moments Enna was content to hold the doll quietly in her arms, rocking backwards and forwards, singing to it; but ere long she laid itdown on her lap, and began fastening and unfastening its clothes, pullingoff its shoes and stockings to look at its feet--dropping them on thefloor, and stooping to pick them up again, at the same time holding thedoll in such a careless manner that Elsie expected every instant to seeit scattered in fragments on the floor. 

In vain she remonstrated with Enna, and begged her to be more careful;it only vexed her and made her more reckless; and at length Elsie sprangfrom her couch and caught the doll, just in time to save it, but in sodoing gave her ankle a terrible wrench. 

She almost fainted with the pain, and Enna, frightened at her pale face, jumped up and ran out of the room, leaving her alone. 

She had hardly strength to get back on to her couch; and when her fathercame in, a moment after, he found her holding her ankle in both hands, while the tears forced from her by the pain were streaming down over herpale cheeks. 

"Why, my poor darling, what is it?" he exclaimed, in a tone of mingledsurprise and alarm. 

"Oh, papa, " she sobbed, "Enna was going to let my doll fall, and I jumpedto catch it, and hurt my ankle. "

"And what did you do it for?" he said angrily. "I would rather havebought you a dozen such dolls than have had your ankle hurt again. Itmay cripple you for life, yet, if you are not more careful. "

"Oh, papa, please don't scold me, please don't be so angry with me, " shesobbed. "I didn't have a minute to think, and I won't do it again. "

He made no reply, but busied himself in doing what he could to relieveher pain; and Chloe coming in at that moment, he reproved her sharply forleaving the child alone. 

The old nurse took it very meekly, far more disturbed at seeing how herchild was suffering than she could have been by the severest rebukeadministered to herself. She silently assisted Mr. Dinsmore in hisefforts to relieve her; and at length, as Elsie's tears ceased to flow, and the color began to come back to her cheeks, she asked, in a tone fullof loving sympathy, "Is you better now, darlin'?"

"Yes, mammy, thank you; the pain is nearly all gone now, " Elsie answeredgently; and then the soft eyes were raised pleadingly to her father'sface. 

"I'm not angry with you, daughter, " he replied, drawing her head down tohis breast, and kissing her tenderly. "It was only my great love for mylittle girl that made me feel so vexed that she should have been hurt intrying to save a paltry toy. "

After this Mr. Dinsmore gave orders that Enna should never be permittedto enter Elsie's room in his absence, and thus she was saved all furtherannoyance of that kind; and Chloe was careful never to leave her aloneagain until she was quite well, and able to run about. That, however, wasnot for several weeks longer, for this second injury had retarded herrecovery a good deal; and she began to grow very weary, indeed, of herlong confinement. At length, though, she was able to walk about her rooma little, and her father had several times taken her out in the carriage, to get the fresh air, as he said. 

It was Saturday afternoon. Elsie was sitting on her sofa, quietlyworking, while her nurse sat on the other side of the room, knittingbusily, as usual. 

"Oh, mammy!" exclaimed the little girl, with sigh, "it is such a long, long time since I have been to church. How I wish papa would let me goto-morrow! Do you think he would, if I should ask him?"

"Dunno, darlin'! I'se 'fraid not, " replied the old woman, shaking herhead doubtfully. "Massa Horace berry careful ob you, an' dat ankle notwell yet. "

"Oh! but, mammy, I wouldn't need to walk, excepting just across thechurch, for you know papa could carry me down to the carriage, " said thelittle girl eagerly. 

Mr. Dinsmore came in soon afterwards, and, greeting his little girlaffectionately, sat down beside her, and, taking a newspaper from hispocket, began to read. 

"Papa, mayn't I sit on your knee?" she asked softly, as he paused in hisreading to turn his paper. 

He smiled, and without speaking lifted her to the desired position, thenwent on reading. 

She waited patiently until there was another slight pause; then asked inher most coaxing tone, "Papa, may I go to church to-morrow?"

"No, " he said, decidedly, and she dared not say another word; but she wassadly disappointed, and the tears sprang to her eyes, and presently onerolled down and fell upon her lap. 

He saw it, and giving her a glance of mingled surprise and displeasure, put her back upon the sofa again, and returned to his paper. 

She burst into sobs and tears at that, and laying her head down upon thecushion, cried bitterly. 

Her father took no notice for a little while; then said, very gravely, "Elsie, if you are crying because I have put you off my knee, that is notthe way to get back again. I must have _cheerful_ submission from mylittle girl, and it was precisely _because_ you were crying that I putyou down. "

"Please take me again, papa, and I won't cry any more, " she answered, wiping her eyes. 

He took her in his arms again, and she nestled close to him, and laid herhead down on his breast with a sigh of satisfaction. 

"You _must_ learn not to cry when I do not see fit to acquiesce in yourwishes, my daughter, " he said, stroking her hair. "I do not think youquite well enough yet to go to church; and to-morrow bids fair to be astormy day. But I hope by next Sabbath you may be able to go. "

Elsie tried to submit cheerfully to her father's decision, but she lookedforward very anxiously all the week to the next Sabbath. When it came, toher great delight, she was permitted to attend church, and the nextmorning she took her place in the school-room again. 

She was far from enjoying the change from her father's instructionto Miss Day's; yet Arthur's absence rendered her situation far morecomfortable than it had formerly been, and she still continued severalstudies with her father, and spent many happy hours with him every day. And thus everything moved on quite smoothly with the little girl duringthe remainder of the winter. 

CHAPTER IV. 

"Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy. " Exod. 10:6. 

"We ought to obey God rather than men. " Acts 5:29. 

"Dear papa, are you sick?" It was Elsie's sweet voice that asked thequestion in a tone of alarm. She had just finished her morning lessons, and coming into her father's room, had found him lying on the sofa, looking flushed and feverish. 

"Yes, daughter, " he said, "I have a severe headache, and some fever, Ithink. But don't be alarmed, my pet, 'tis nothing at all serious, " headded in a more cheerful tone, taking both her little hands in his, andgazing fondly into the beautiful dark eyes, now filled with tears. 

"You will let me be your little nurse, my own dear papa, will you not?"she asked coaxingly. "May I bring some cool water and bathe your head?"

"Yes, darling, you may, " he said, releasing her hands. 

Elsie stole softly out of the room, but was back again almost in amoment, followed by Chloe, bearing a pitcher of ice-water. 

"Now, mammy, please bring a basin and napkin from the dressing-room, " shesaid, in a low tone, as the old nurse set down her burden. "And then youmay darken the room a little. And shall I not tell her to send Jim orJack for the doctor, papa?"

"It is hardly necessary, darling, " he replied, with a faint smile. 

"Oh! please, papa, my own dear, darling papa, do let me!" she entreated. "You know it cannot do any harm, and may do a great deal of good. "

"Ah! well, child, do as you like, " he replied with a weary sigh; "but thedoctor will, no doubt, think me very foolish to be so easily frightened. "

"Then, papa, I will tell him it was I, not you, who were frightened, andthat you sent for him to please your silly little daughter, " Elsie said, fondly laying her cheek to his, while he passed his arm around her, andpressed her to his side. 

"Here are de tings, darlin', " said Chloe, setting down the basin, andfilling it from the pitcher. 

"That is right, you good old mammy. Now close the blinds, and thenyou may go and tell Jim to saddle a horse and ride after the doctorimmediately. "

Chloe left the room, and Elsie brought another pillow for her father, smoothed his hair, bathed his forehead, and then, drawing a low chair tothe side of the sofa, sat down and fanned him gently and regularly. 

"Why!" said he, in a gratified tone, "you are as nice a little nurse asanybody need ask for; you move about so gently, and seem to know just theright thing to do. How did you learn?"

"I have had bad headaches so often myself, papa, that I have found outwhat one wants at such times, " replied the little girl, coloring withpleasure. 

He closed his eyes and seemed to be sleeping, and Elsie almost held herbreath, lest she should disturb him. But presently the dinner-bell rang, and, opening them again, he said, "Go down, my daughter, and get yourdinner. "

"I am not hungry, papa, " she replied. "Please let me stay and wait onyou. Won't you have something to eat?"

"No, my dear, I have no desire for food; and you see, Chloe is comingto take care of me; so I wish you to go down at once, " he said in hisdecided tone, and Elsie instantly rose to obey. 

"You may come back if you choose when you have eaten your dinner, " headded kindly. "I love to have you here. "

"Thank you, papa, I will, " she answered, with a brightened countenance, as she left the room. She was soon in her place again by his side. Hewas sleeping--and taking the fan from Chloe's hand without speaking, she motioned her away, and resuming her seat, sat for an hour or more, fanning him in perfect silence. 

The physician had come while the family were at dinner, and leavingsome medicine, had gone again, saying he was in haste to visit anotherpatient; and assuring Elsie, whom he met in the hall as he was going out, that he did not think her papa was going to be very ill. This assurancehad comforted her very much, and she felt quite happy while sitting therewatching her father's slumbers. 

At length he opened his eyes, and smiling fondly on her, asked: "Doesnot my little girl want some play this afternoon? Your little hand mustsurely be very tired wielding that fan;" and taking it from her, he drewher head down to his breast and stroked her hair caressingly. 

"No, my own papa, I would much rather stay with you, if you will let me, "she answered eagerly. 

"I am afraid I _ought_ to be very determined, and send you out to takesome exercise, " he replied, playfully running his fingers through hercurls; "but it is too pleasant to have you here, so you may stay if youlike. "

"Oh, thank you, dear papa! and will you let me wait on you? What can I dofor you now?"

"You may bring that book that lies on the table there, and read to me. You need not learn any lessons for to-morrow, for I intend to keep youwith me. "

The next day, and the next, and for many succeeding ones, Mr. Dinsmorewas quite too ill to leave his bed, and during all this time Elsie washis constant companion by day--except for an hour every afternoon, whenhe compelled her to go out and take some exercise in the open air--andshe would have sat by his side at night, also, but he would by no meanspermit it. 

"No, Elsie, " he replied to her repeated entreaties, "you must go to bedevery night at your usual hour, and stay there until your accustomed hourfor rising. I will not have you deprived of your rest unless I amactually dying. "

This was said in the determined tone that always silenced Elsie at once, and she submitted to his decision without another word, feeling verythankful that he kept her so constantly at his side through the day. She proved herself the best and most attentive of nurses, seeming tounderstand his wishes intuitively, and moving about so gently andquietly--never hurried, never impatient, never weary of attending tohis wants. His eyes followed with fond delight her little figure asit flitted noiselessly about the room, now here, now there, arrangingeverything for his comfort; and often, as she returned to her stationat his side, he would draw her down to him, and stroke her hair, or pather cheek, or kiss the rosy lips, calling her by every fond, endearingname--rose-bud--his pet--his bird--his darling. 

It was she who bathed his head with her cool, soft hands, in hisparoxysms of fever, smoothed his hair, shook up his pillows, gave him hismedicines, fanned him, and read or sang to him, in her clear sweet tones. 

He was scarcely considered in danger, but his sickness was tedious, andwould have seemed far more so without the companionship of his littledaughter. Every day seemed to draw the ties of affection more closelybetween them; yet, fond as he was of her, he ever made her feel that hiswill was always to be law to her; and while he required nothing contraryto her conscience, she submitted without a murmur, both because she lovedhim so well that it was a pleasure to obey him, and also because she knewit was her duty to do so. 

But, alas! duty was not always to be so easy and pleasant. 

It was Sabbath morning. All the family had gone to church, exceptingElsie, who, as usual, sat by her papa's bedside. She had her Bible inher hand, and was reading aloud. 

"There, Elsie, that will do now, " he said, as she finished her chapter. "Go and get the book you were reading to me yesterday. I wish to hear therest of it this morning. "

Poor little Elsie! she rose to her feet, but stood irresolute. Her heartbeat fast, her color came and went by turns, and her eyes filled withtears. 

The book her father bade her read to him was simply a fictitiousmoral tale, without a particle of religious truth in it, and, Elsie'sconscience told her, entirely unfit for Sabbath reading. 

"Elsie!" exclaimed her father, in a tone of mingled reproof and surprise, "did you hear me?"

"Yes, papa, " she murmured, in a low tone. 

"Then go at once and get the book, as I bid you; it lies yonder on thedressing-table. "

Elsie moved slowly across the room, her father looking after her somewhatimpatiently. 

"Come, Elsie, make haste, " he said, as she laid her hand upon the book. "I think I never saw you move so slowly, "

Without replying she took it up and returned to the bedside. Then, as hecaught sight of her face, and saw that her cheeks were pale and wet withtears, he exclaimed, "What, _crying_, Elsie! what ails you, my daughter?Are you ill, darling?"

His tone was one of tender solicitude, and accompanied with a caress, ashe took her hand and drew her towards him. 

"Oh, papa!" she sobbed, laying her head on the pillow beside him, "pleasedo not ask me to read that book to-day. "

He did not reply for a moment, and when he did, Elsie was startled by thechange in his tone; it was so exceedingly stern and severe. 

"Elsie, " he said, "I do not _ask_ you to read that book, I _command_ youto do it, and what is more, _I intend to be obeyed_. Sit down at once andbegin, and let me have no more of this perverseness. "

"Dear papa, " she answered in low, pleading, trembling tones, "I do not, _indeed_, I do not want to be perverse and disobedient, but I cannotbreak the Sabbath-day. _Please_, papa, let me finish it to-morrow. "

"Elsie!" said he, in a tone a little less severe, but quite asdetermined, "I see that you think that because you gained your point inrelation to that song that you will always be allowed to do as you likein such matters; but you are mistaken; I am _determined_ to be obeyedthis time. I would not by any means bid you do anything I consideredwrong, but I can see no harm whatever in reading that book to-day;and certainly I, who have lived so much longer, am far more capableof judging in these matters than a little girl of your age. Why, mydaughter, I have seen ministers reading worse books than that on theSabbath. "

"But, papa, " she replied timidly, "you know the Bible says: 'Theymeasuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves amongthemselves, are not wise;' and are we not just to do whatever Godcommands, without stopping to ask what other people do or say? fordon't even the best people very often do wrong?"

"Very well; find me a text that says you are not to read such a book asthis on the Sabbath, and I will let you wait until to-morrow. "

Elsie hesitated. "I cannot find one that says just _that_, papa, " shesaid, "but there is one that says we are not to think our own thoughts, nor speak our own words on the Sabbath; and does not that mean worldlythoughts and words? and is not that book full of such things, and onlyof such?"

"Nonsense!" he exclaimed, impatiently, "let me hear no more of suchstuff! you are entirely too young and childish to attempt to reason onsuch subjects. Your place is simply to obey; are you going to do it?"

"Oh, papa!" she murmured, almost under her breath, "I cannot. "

"Elsie, " said he, in a tone of great anger, "I should certainly begreatly tempted to whip you into submission, had I the strength to doit. "

Elsie answered only by her tears and sobs. 

There was silence for a moment, and then her father said: "Elsie, Iexpect from my daughter entire, unquestioning obedience, and until youare ready to render it, I shall cease to treat you as my child. I shallbanish you from my presence, and my affections. This is the alternative Iset before you. I will give you ten minutes to consider it. At the end ofthat time, if you are ready to obey me, well and good--if not, you willleave this room, not to enter it again until you are ready to acknowledgeyour fault, ask forgiveness, and promise implicit obedience in thefuture. "

A low cry of utter despair broke from Elsie's lips, as she thus heard hersentence pronounced in tones of calm, stern determination; and, hidingher face on the bed, she sobbed convulsively. 

Her father lifted his watch from a little stand by the bedside, and heldit in his hand until the ten minutes expired. 

"The time is up, Elsie, " he said; "are you ready to obey me?"

"Oh, papa!" she sobbed, "I cannot do it. "

"Very well, then, " he said, coldly; "if neither your sense of duty, noryour affection for your sick father is strong enough to overcome yourself-will, you know what you have to do. Leave the room at once, andsend one of the servants to attend me. I will not have such a perverse, disobedient child in my presence. "

She raised her head, and he was touched by the look of anguish on herface. 

"My daughter, " he said, drawing her to him, and pushing back the curlsfrom her face, "this separation will be as painful to me as to you; yet Icannot yield my authority. I _must_ have obedience from you. I ask again, will you obey me?"

He waited a moment for an answer; but Elsie's heart was too full forspeech. 

Pushing her from him, he said: "Go! remember, whenever you are ready tocomply with the conditions, you may return; but _not till then_!"

Elsie seized his hand in both of hers, and covered it with kisses andtears; then, without a word, turned and left the room. 

He looked after her with a sigh, muttering to himself, "She has a spiceof my own obstinacy in her nature; but I think a few days' banishmentfrom me will bring her round. I am punishing myself quite as much, however, for it will be terribly hard to do without her. "

Elsie hastened to her own room, almost distracted with grief; the blowhad been so sudden, so unexpected, so terrible; for she could see no endto her banishment; unless, indeed, a change should take place in herfather's feelings, and of that she had very little hope. 

Flinging herself upon a couch, she wept long and bitterly. Her grief wasdeep and despairing, but there was no anger in it; on the contrary, herheart was filled with intense love to her father, who, she doubted not, was acting from a mistaken sense of duty; and she could scarcely bear thethought that now she should no longer be permitted to wait upon him, andattend to his comfort. She had sent a servant to him, but a servant couldill supply a daughter's place, and her heart ached to think how he wouldmiss her sympathy and love. 

An hour passed slowly away; the family returned from church, and the bellrang for dinner. But Elsie heeded it not; she had no desire for food, andstill lay sobbing on her couch, till Chloe came to ask why she did not godown. 

The faithful creature was much surprised and distressed at the state inwhich she found her child, and raising her in her arms tenderly, inquiredinto the cause of her grief. 

Elsie told her in a few words, and Chloe, without finding any fault withMr. Dinsmore, strove to comfort the sorrowing child, assuring her of herown unalterable affection, and talking to her of the love of Jesus, whowould help her to hear every trial, and in his own good time remove it. 

Elsie grew calmer as she listened to her nurse's words; her sobs andtears gradually ceased, and at length she allowed Chloe to bathe herface, and smooth her disordered hair and dress; but she refused to eat, and lay on her couch all the afternoon, with a very sad little face, asob now and then bursting from her bosom, and a tear trickling down hercheek. When the tea-bell rang, she reluctantly yielded to Chloe'spersuasions, and went down. But it was a sad, uncomfortable meal to her, for she soon perceived, from the cold and averted looks of the wholefamily, that the cause of her banishment from her papa's room was known. Even her Aunt Adelaide, who was usually so kind, now seemed determinedto take no notice of her, and before the meal was half over, Enna, frowning at her across the table, exclaimed in a loud, angry tone, "Naughty, bad girl! Brother Horace ought to whip you!"

"That he ought, " added her grandfather, severely, "if he had the strengthto do it; but he is not likely to gain it, while worried with such aperverse, disobedient child. "

Elsie could not swallow another mouthful, for the choking sensation inher throat; and it cost her a hard struggle to keep back the tears thatseemed determined to force their way down her cheek at Enna's unkindspeech; but the concluding sentence of her grandfather's remark causedher to start and tremble with fear on her father's account; yet shecould not command her voice sufficiently to speak and ask if he wereworse. 

There was, indeed, a very unfavorable change in Mr. Dinsmore, and he wasreally more alarmingly ill than he had been at all. Elsie's resistanceto his authority had excited him so much as to bring on a return of hisfever; her absence fretted him, too, for no one else seemed to understandquite as well how to wait upon him; and besides, he was not altogethersatisfied with himself; not entirely sure that the course he had adoptedwas the right one. Could he only have got rid of all doubts of therighteousness and justice of the sentence he had pronounced upon her, itwould have been a great relief. He was very proud, a man of indomitablewill, and very jealous of his authority; and between these on the onehand, and his love for his child and desire for her presence, on theother, a fierce struggle had been raging in his breast all the afternoon. 

As soon as she dared leave the table Elsie stole out into the garden, there to indulge her grief, unseen by any but the eye of God. 

She paced up and down her favorite walk, weeping and sobbing bitterly. Presently her attention was attracted by the galloping of a horse downthe avenue, and raising her head, she saw that it was the physician, returning from a visit to her father. It was not his usual hour forcalling, and she at once conjectured that her father was worse. Her firstimpulse was to hasten to him, but instantly came the recollection that hehad banished her from his presence, and sinking down upon a bank, sheburst into a fresh paroxysm of grief. It was so hard--so _very_ hard--toknow that he was ill and suffering, and not to be permitted to go to him. 

At length she could bear it no longer, and springing up she hurried intothe house, and gliding softly up the stairs, stationed herself at herpapa's door, determined to intercept some one passing in or out, andinquire how he was. 

She had not been long there when her Aunt Adelaide came out, lookingtroubled and anxious. 

"Oh, Aunt Adelaide, " cried the child in a hoarse whisper, catching her bythe dress, "dear Aunt Adelaide, _do_ tell me, is papa worse?"

"Yes, Elsie, " she replied coldly, attempting to pass on; "he is muchworse. "

The little girl burst into an agony of tears. 

"You may well cry, Elsie, " remarked her aunt severely, "for it is allyour fault, and if you are left an orphan, you may thank your ownperverseness and obstinacy for it. "

Putting both hands over her face, with a low cry of anguish, Elsie fellforward in a deep swoon. 

Adelaide caught her ere she had quite reached the floor, and hastilyloosening her dress, looked anxiously around for help; but none was athand, and she dared not call aloud lest she should alarm her brother. Solaying her gently down on the carpet, she went in search of Chloe, whomshe found, as she had expected, in Elsie's room. In a few hurried wordsAdelaide made her understand what had occurred, and that Elsie must beremoved without the slightest noise or disturbance. 

Another moment and Chloe was at her darling's side, and raising hergently in her strong arms, she bore her quickly to her room, and layingher on a couch, proceeded to apply restoratives, murmuring the while, in low, pitiful tones, "De dear, precious lamb! it mos' breaks your olemammy's heart to see you dis way. "

It was long ere consciousness returned; so long that Adelaide, who stoodby, gazing sorrowfully at the little wan face, and reproaching herselffor her cruelty, trembled and grew pale with apprehension. 

But at last, with a weary sigh, Elsie opened her eyes, and looked up, with a sad, bewildered expression, into the dusky face bent so anxiouslyover her, and then, with a feeling of intense relief, Adelaide slippedaway to her own room, leaving them alone together. 

"What is it, mammy? Oh, I know! I remember! Oh, mammy, mammy! will mydear, precious papa die?" sobbed the poor little girl, throwing her armsaround her nurse's neck. 

"I hope not, darling" replied Chloe, soothingly. "Massa Horace am prettysick, I know; but I tinks de good Lord spare him, if we pray. "

"Oh, yes, yes, mammy, let us pray for him. Let us both pray veryearnestly, and I am sure God will spare him, because he has _promised_to grant whatever two shall agree to ask. "

They knelt down, and Chloe prayed in her broken way; and when she hadfinished, Elsie poured out such a prayer as comes only from a heart readyto break with its load of sorrow and care. 

None but he who has tried it can tell what a blessed relief comes tothose who thus "cast their care on Jesus. " Elsie's burden was not less, but she no longer bore it alone; she had rolled it upon the Lord and hesustained her. She shed a few quiet tears after she had laid her headupon her pillow, but soon forgot all her sorrows in a deep, sweet sleep, that lasted until morning. 

It was still early when she awoke and sprang up, with the intention ofhastening, as usual, to her father's side; but alas! in another momentmemory had recalled all the distressing events of the previous day, and, sinking back upon her pillow, she wept long and bitterly. 

But at length she dried her tears, and, kneeling at the bedside, pouredout her sorrows and supplications into the ear of her Saviour, and thusagain grew calm and strong to endure. 

As soon as she was dressed she went to her papa's door, hoping to seesome one who could tell her how he was; but no one came, and she darednot venture in, and her intense anxiety had yet found no relief when thebell summoned the family to breakfast. 

The same cold looks awaited her there as on the night before, and thepoor child could scarcely eat, and was glad when the comfortless meal wasover. 

She followed Adelaide to Mr. Dinsmore's door, and begged her with tearsand sobs to ask her papa to allow her to come to him, if it was only forone moment, just to look at him, and then go away again. 

Adelaide was touched by her evident anxiety and distress, and said, almost kindly, as she laid her hand on the handle of the door, "Well, Elsie, I will ask him; but I have no idea that it will be of any use, unless you will give up your foolish obstinacy. "

Elsie stood outside waiting with a beating heart, and though her aunt wasreally gone but a moment, it seemed a long time to her ere the door againopened. 

She looked up eagerly, and read the answer in Adelaide's face, ere sheheard the coldly spoken, stern message--

"Your papa says you very well know the conditions on which you will beadmitted to his presence, and that they are as unalterable as the laws ofthe Medes and Persians. "

The tears gushed from Elsie's eyes, and she turned away with a gesture ofdespair. 

"Elsie, " said her aunt, "let me advise you to give up at once; for I amperfectly certain you never can conquer your father. "

"Oh, Aunt Adelaide! that is not what I want, " murmured the child, in low, broken accents. 

But Adelaide went on without noticing the interruption--

"He is worse, and growing worse all the time, Elsie; his fever has beenvery high ever since yesterday afternoon--and we all know that it isnothing but your misconduct that has caused this relapse. "

Elsie could bear no more, but rushing away to her own room, and lockingherself in, she gave way without restraint to her feelings of distressand anguish. 

Knowing that she was not expected in the school-room--as she had paid noattention to study since the beginning of her father's illness--she didnot leave her room again until dinner-time. 

She was on her way to the dining-room, when her Aunt Adelaide, passingher in the hall, caught hold of her, saying, "Elsie, your papa is so illthat the doctor trembles for his life; he says he is certain that he hassomething on his mind that is distressing him and causing this alarmingchange, and unless it is removed he fears he will never be any better. Elsie, _you know what that something is_. "

Elsie stood as if turned to stone, while Adelaide, letting go her arm, moved quickly away, leaving her alone, stunned, bewildered, terrified bythe suddenness of the dreadful announcement. 

She could not think or reason; she could only press her hands to hertemples, in the vain endeavor to still their wild throbbing; then, turning back to her own room again, she threw herself upon her knees, and, resting her head against the bed, gave vent to her over-wroughtfeelings in such groans of anguish as seldom come from the heart of oneso young. At first she could neither weep nor pray; but at length tearscame to her relief, and she poured out agonizing supplications "that herdear, _dear_ papa might be spared, at least, until he had learnedto love Jesus, and was fit to go to heaven. "

She felt as though her heart would break at the very thought of beingseparated from him forever in this world, but even that was as nothingcompared to the more terrible fear of not meeting him in another. 

That was a long, sad afternoon to the poor child; the longest and saddestshe had ever known. Chloe now and then brought her word how her fatherwas, but no one else came near her to speak a word of comfort or hope. Towards evening they had given up almost all hope; he had ceased torecognize any one, and one after another, parents, brother, sisters, andservants, had been permitted to take a last look--all but little Elsie, his own and only child--the one nearest and dearest to him, and to whomhe was all the world--she alone was forbidden to come. She had begged andplead, in tones that might have melted a heart of stone, to be permittedto see his face once more in life; but Mrs. Dinsmore, who had taken thedirection of everything, said, "No, her father has forbidden it, and sheshall not come unless she expresses her willingness to comply with hisconditions. "

Adelaide had then ventured a plea in her behalf, but the reply was: "Idon't pity her at all; it is all her own doing. "

"So much the harder is it for her to bear, I presume, " urged Adelaide. 

"There, Adelaide, that will do now! Let me hear no more about it, "replied her lady mother, and there the matter dropped. 

Poor little Elsie tried to be submissive and forgiving, but she could nothelp feeling it terribly hard and cruel, and almost more than she couldbear, thus to be kept away from her sick and dying father. 

It was long ere sleep visited her weary eyes that night; hour after hourshe lay on her pillow, pouring out prayers and tears on his behalf, untilat length, completely worn out with sorrow, she fell into a deep andheavy slumber, from which she waked to find the morning sun streaming inat the windows, and Chloe standing gazing down upon her with a very happyface. 

She started up from her pillow, asking eagerly, "What is it, mammy? Oh!what is it? is my papa better?"

"Yes, darling Massa Horace much better dis mornin'; de doctor say 'hegwine git well now for sartin, if he don't git worse again. '"

"Oh, mammy! It seems too good to be true! Oh, how very, very good God hasbeen to me!" cried the little girl, weeping for very joy. 

For a moment, in the intensity of her happiness, she forgot that she wasstill in disgrace and banishment--forgot everything but the joyful factthat her father was spared to her. But, oh! she could not forget it long. The bitter recollection soon returned, to damp her joy and fill her withsad forebodings. 

CHAPTER V. 

"I'll do whate'er thou wilt, I'll be silent;But oh! a reined tongue, and a bursting heart, Are hard at once to bear. "

JOANNA BAILLIE'S BASIL. 

Mr. Dinsmore's recovery was not very rapid. It was several weeks after hewas pronounced out of danger ere he was able to leave his room; and thenhe came down looking so altered, so pale, and thin, and weak, that italmost broke his little daughter's heart to look at him. 

Very sad and lonely weeks those had been to her, poor child! Shewas never once permitted to see him, and the whole family treated herwith marked coldness and neglect. She had returned to her duties in theschool-room--her father having sent her a command to that effect, as soonas he was sufficiently recovered to think of her--and she tried to attendfaithfully to her studies, but more than once Miss Day had seen the tearsdropping upon her book or slate, and reproved her sharply for not givingher mind to her lessons, and for indulging in what she called her"babyish propensities. "

Mr. Dinsmore made his first appearance in the family circle one morningat breakfast, a servant assisting him down stairs and seating him in aneasy-chair at the table, just as the others were taking their places. 

Warm congratulations were showered upon him from all sides. Enna ranup to him, exclaiming, "I'm _so_ glad to see you down again, brotherHorace;" and was rewarded with a smile and a kiss; while poor littleElsie, who had been directed, she knew not why, to take her old seatopposite to his, was unable to utter a word, but stood with one hand onthe back of her chair, pale and trembling with emotion, watching him witheyes so blinded by tears that she could scarcely see. But no one seemedto notice her, and her father did not once turn his eyes that way. 

She thought of the morning when she had first met him there, her poorlittle heart hungering so for his love; and it seemed as if she had goneback again to that time; and yet it was worse; for now she had learnedto love him with an intensity of affection she had then never known, and having tasted the sweetness of his love, her sense of suffering atits loss was proportionally great; and utterly unable to control herfeelings, she silently left the room to seek some place where she mightgive her bursting heart the relief of tears, with none to observe orreprove her. 

Elsie had a rare plant, the gift of a friend, which she had long beentending with great care, and which had blossomed that morning for thefirst time. 

The flower was beautiful and very fragrant, and as the little girlstood gazing upon it with delighted eyes, while awaiting the summons tobreakfast, she had said to Chloe, "Oh! how I should like papa to see it!He is so fond of flowers, and has been, so anxious for this one tobloom. "

But a deep sigh followed as she thought what a long, long time it waslikely to be before her father would again enter her room, or permit herto go into his. He had not, however, forbidden her to speak to him, andthe thought struck her that, if he should be able to leave his roombefore the flower had faded, so that she could see and speak to him, she might pluck it off and present it to him. 

She thought of it again, while weeping alone in her room, and a fainthope sprang up in her heart that the little gift might open the way for areconciliation. But she must wait and watch for an opportunity to see himalone; for she could not, in the present state of affairs, think ofaddressing him before a third person. 

The opportunity came almost sooner than she had dared to hope, for, onpassing the library door just after the morning lessons were over, shesaw him sitting there alone; and trembling between hope and fear, shehurried at once to her room, plucked the beautiful blossom from its stem, and with it in her hand hastened to the library. 

She moved noiselessly across the thickly carpeted floor, and her papa, who was reading, did not seem to be aware of her approach, until she wasclose at his side. He then raised his head and looked at her with anexpression of surprise on his countenance. 

"Dear papa, " said the little girl, in faltering accents, as she presentedthe flower, "my plant is bloomed at last; will you accept this firstblossom as a token of affection from your little daughter?"

Her pleading eyes were fixed upon his face, and ere she had finished hersentence, she was trembling violently at the dark frown she saw gatheringThere. 

"Elsie, " said he, in the cold, stern tone she so much dreaded, "I amsorry you have broken your flower. I cannot divine your motive--affectionfor me it cannot be; for that such a feeling exists in the breast of alittle girl, who not only could refuse her sick father the very smallfavor of reading to him, but would rather see him _die_ than give up herown self-will, I cannot believe. No, Elsie, take it away; I can receiveno gifts nor tokens of affection from a rebellious, disobedient child. "

The flower had fallen upon the floor, and Elsie stood in an attitude ofutter despair, her head bent down upon her breast, and her hands hanginglistlessly at her side. For an instant she stood thus, and then, witha sudden revulsion of feeling, she sank down on her knees beside herfather's chair, and seizing his hand in both of hers, pressed it to herheart, and then to her lips, covering it with kisses and tears, whilegreat bursting sobs shook her whole frame. 

"Oh, papa! dear, _dear_ papa! I _do love_ you! indeed, _indeed_ I do. Oh, how could you say such cruel words to me?" she sobbed. 

"Hush!" he said, withdrawing his hand. "I will have nothing but the truthfrom you, and 'actions speak louder than words. ' Get up immediately, anddry your tears. Miss Day tells me that you are ruining your eyes bycontinual crying; and if I hear any more such complaints, I shall punishyou severely. I will not allow it at all, for you have nothing whateverto make you unhappy but your own misconduct. Just as soon as you areready to submit to my authority, you will find yourself treated with thesame indulgence and affection as formerly; but remember, _not till_then!"

His words were like daggers to the affectionate, sensitive child. Had hestabbed her to the heart he could not have hurt her more. 

"Oh, papa!" she murmured in heart-broken accents, as in obedience to hiscommand she rose to her feet, struggling hard to keep back the tears hehad forbidden her to shed. 

But her emotion did not seem to move him. Her conduct during his severeillness had been so misrepresented to him, that at times he was wellnighconvinced that her seeming affection was all hypocrisy, and that shereally regarded him only in the light of a tyrant, from whose authorityshe would be glad to escape in any way. 

"Pick up your flower and leave the room, " he said. "I have no desire foryour company until you can learn to obey as you ought. "

Silently and mechanically Elsie obeyed him, and hastening to her own roomagain, threw herself into her nurse's arms, weeping as though she wouldweep her very life away. 

Chloe asked no questions as to the cause of her emotion--which theflower in her hand, and the remembrance of the morning's conversation, sufficiently explained--but tried in every way to soothe and encourageher to hope for future reconciliation. 

For some moments her efforts seemed to be quite unavailing; but suddenlyElsie raised her head, and wiping away her tears, said, with a convulsivesob, "Oh! I am doing wrong again, for papa has forbidden me to cry somuch, and I must try to obey him. But, oh!" she exclaimed, dropping herhead on her nurse's shoulder, with a fresh burst of tears, "how can Ihelp it, when my heart is bursting?"

"Jesus will help you, darlin', " replied Chloe, tenderly. "He always helpshis chillens to bear all dere troubles an' do all dere duties, an' neverleaves nor forsakes dem. But you must try, darlin', to mind Massa Horace, kase he is your own papa; an' de Bible says, 'Chillen, obey yourparents. '"

"Yes, mammy, I know I ought, and I _will_ try, " said the little girl, raising her head and wiping her eyes; "but, mammy, you must pray for me, for it will be very, very difficult. "

Elsie had never been an eye-servant, but had always conscientiouslyobeyed her father, whether present or absent, and henceforward sheconstantly struggled to restrain her feelings, and even in solitudedenied her bursting heart the relief of tears; though it was not alwaysshe could do this, for she was but young in the school of affliction, andoften, in spite of every effort, grief would have its way, and she wasready to sink beneath her heavy weight of sorrow. Elsie had learned fromGod's holy word, that "affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neitherdoth trouble spring out of the ground;" and she soon set herselfdiligently to work to find out why this bitter trial had been sent her. 

Her little Bible had never been suffered to lie a single day unused, norhad morning or evening ever failed to find her in her closet; she hadneglected none of the forms of religion, and her devotions had been farfrom heartless; yet she discovered with pain that she had of late spentless time, and found less of her enjoyment in these duties than formerly;that she had been, too much engrossed by an earthly love, and needed thistrial to bring her nearer to her Saviour, and teach her again to seek allher happiness in "looking unto him. " And now the hours that she had beenwont to pass in her father's society were usually spent in her own room, alone with her Bible and her God, and there she found that sweet peaceand joy which the world can neither give nor take away; and thus shegathered strength to bear her troubles and crosses with heavenly meeknessand patience; and she had indeed great need of a strength not her own, for every day, and almost every hour brought with it its own peculiartrial. 

No one but the servants--who still loved her dearly--treated her withkindness; but coldness and neglect were the least she had to bear. Shewas constantly reminded, even by Walter and Enna, that she was stubbornand disobedient, and there was so little pleasure in her walks and rides, either when taken alone or in company with them, that she gradually gavethem up almost entirely--until one day, her father's attention beingcalled to it, by a remark of Mrs. Dinsmore's, "that it was no wonder thechild was growing thin and pale, for she did not take exercise enough tokeep her in health, " he called her to him, reprimanded her severely, andlaid his commands upon her "to take a walk and ride every day, when theweather would at all permit, but never dare to go alone farther than intothe garden. "

Elsie answered with meek submission, promising obedience; and then turnedquickly away to hide the emotion that was swelling in her breast. 

The change in her father was the bitterest part of her trial; she had sorevelled in his affection, and now it seemed to be all withdrawn fromher; and from the fond, indulgent parent, Mr. Dinsmore seemed suddenly tohave changed to the cold, pitiless tyrant. He now seldom took any noticeof his little daughter, and never addressed her unless it were to uttera rebuke, a threat, a prohibition, or command, in tones of harshness andseverity. 

Elsie bore it with all the meekness and patience of a martyr, but erelong her health began to suffer; she grew weak and nervous, and wouldstart and tremble, and change color at the very sound of her father'sstep or voice--those sounds which she had once so loved to hear--and thelittle face became thin and pale, and an expression of deep and touchingsadness settled down upon it. 

Love was as necessary to Elsie's health and happiness as sunshine to theflowers, and even as the keen winds and biting frosts of winter wilt andwither the tender blossoms, so did all this coldness and severity, thegentle, sensitive spirit of the little child. 

Mr. Travilla had called several times during the early part of Mr. Dinsmore's illness, while Elsie had been his nurse, and she sometimeswondered that she had seen nothing of him during all these sorrowfulweeks; but the truth was, Mr. Travilla had been absent from home, andknew nothing of all that had been going on at Roselands. As soon, however, as he returned, and heard how ill his friend had been, hecalled to express his sympathy, and congratulate him on his recovery. 

He found Mr. Dinsmore seated in an easy-chair in the library, stilllooking weak and ill, and more depressed in spirits than he had everseen him. 

"Ah! Dinsmore, my dear fellow, I hear you have been very ill; and, indeed, I must say you are looking far from well yet, " Travilla exclaimedin his cheerful, hearty way, shaking his friend's hand warmly. "I thinkmy little friend, Elsie, has deserted her post almost too soon; but Isuppose you have sent her back to her lessons again, " he remarked, glancing around as if in search of her. 

"I have no need of nursing now, " replied Mr. Dinsmore, with a sad sort ofsmile. "I am able to ride, and even to walk out, and shall, I hope, soonbe quite myself again. "

He then introduced another topic of conversation, and they chatted forsome time. 

At length Mr. Travilla drew out his watch. 

"I see it is past school-hours, " he said; "might I see my little friend?I have brought a little gift for her, and should like to present it inperson. "

Mr. Dinsmore had become quite animated and cheerful during their previousconversation, but a great change came over his face while Mr. Travillawas making his request, and the expression of his countenance was verycold and stern, as he replied, "I thank you, Travilla, on her behalf;but, if you please, I would much prefer your not giving her anythingat present, for, I am sorry to say, Elsie has been very stubborn andrebellious of late, and is quite undeserving of any indulgence. "

Mr. Travilla looked exceedingly astonished. "Is it _possible_!" heexclaimed. "Really, I have had such an exalted opinion of Elsie'sgoodness, that I could not have credited such a charge from any onebut her father. "

"No, nor could I, " replied Mr. Dinsmore, leaning his head upon hishand with a heavy sigh; "but it is as I tell you, and you see now thatI have some cause for the depression of spirits upon which you have beenrallying me. Travilla, I love that child as I have never loved anotherearthly thing except her mother, and it cuts me to the quick to haveher rebel as she has been doing for the last five weeks; it is almostmore than I can bear in my present weak state. I thought she loved medevotedly, but it seems I was mistaken, for surely obedience is thebest test of love, and she refuses me that. "

He paused for a moment, apparently quite overcome by his feelings, thenwent on; "I have been compelled to banish her from my presence, but, alas! I find I cannot tear her from my heart, and I miss her everymoment. "

Mr. Travilla looked very much concerned. "I am sorry, indeed, " he said, "to hear such an account of my little friend; but her love for you Icannot doubt, and we will hope that she will soon return to her duty. "

"Thank you, Travilla; I am always sure of your sympathy in any kind oftrouble, " replied Mr. Dinsmore, trying to speak cheerfully; "but we willleave this disagreeable subject, and talk of something else. "

In a few moments Mr. Travilla rose to take leave, declining Mr. Dinsmore's urgent invitation to remain to dinner, but promising tocome again before long and stay a day or two. His kind heart was reallypained to learn that there was again a misunderstanding between hislittle friend--as he had been in the habit of calling Elsie--and herfather; and as he rode home silently pondering the matter, he determinedthat he would very soon fulfil his promise of paying a longer visit, forhe could not refrain from indulging a faint hope that he might be able toaccomplish something as mediator between them. 

A few days after this, Elsie was passing down the hall. The doors andwindows were all open, for it was a warm spring day, and as she passedthe drawing-room door, she paused a moment and looked in. Her father satreading near one of the windows, and her eyes were riveted upon his face. He was still pale from his recent illness; and his face had a troubled, care-worn look, very different from its usual expression. 

Oh! what a _longing_ desire came over the little girl at that sight, togo to him and say that she was sorry for all the past, and that in thefuture she would be and do everything that he asked. She burst intotears and turned hastily away. She was hurrying out to the garden, butat the door she encountered her aunt Adelaide. 

"What is the matter, Elsie?" she asked, putting her hand on the child'sshoulder and forcibly detaining her. 

"Oh! Aunt Adelaide, " sobbed the little girl, "papa looks so ill and sad. "

"And no wonder, Elsie, " replied her aunt severely; "_you_ are quiteenough to make him sad, and ill, too, with your perverse, obstinate ways. You have yourself to thank for it all, for it is just that, and nothingelse, that ails him. "

She turned away as she spoke, and poor Elsie, wringing her hands in anagony of grief, darted down the garden-walk to her favorite arbor. 

Her eyes were so blinded by tears that she did not see that Mr. Travillawas sitting there, until she was close beside him. 

She turned then, and would have run away again, but he caught her by thedress, and drawing her gently toward him, said in a mild, soothing tone--

"Don't run away from me, my poor little friend, but tell me the cause ofyour sorrow, and who knows but I may be able to assist you. "

Elsie shook her head mournfully, but allowed him, to set her on his knee, and put his arm around her. 

"My poor child! my poor, dear little girl!" he said, wiping away hertears, and kissing her very much as her father had been in the habit ofdoing. 

It reminded her of him and his lost love, and caused a fresh burst oftears and sobs. 

"Poor child!" said Mr. Travilla again, "is there nothing I can do foryou? Will you not tell me the cause of your grief?"

"Oh, Mr. Travilla!" she sobbed, "papa is very much displeased with me, and he looks so sad and ill, it almost breaks my heart. "

"And why is he displeased with you, my dear? If you have done wrong andare sorry for your fault, I am sure you have only to confess it, and askforgiveness, and all will be right again, " he said kindly, drawing herhead down upon his breast, and smoothing back the curls from her flushedand tear-stained face. 

Elsie made no reply, and he went on--

"When we have done wrong, my dear little girl--as we do all sometimes--itis much more noble to acknowledge it and ask pardon, than to try to hideour faults; and you know, dear little Elsie, " he added in a graver tone, "that the Bible teaches us that children must obey their parents. "

"Yes, Mr. Travilla, " she answered, "I know that the Bible says: 'He thatcovereth his sins shall not prosper, ' and I know it tells me to obey myfather; and I do think I am willing to confess my faults, and I do tryto obey papa in everything that is right; but sometimes he bids medisobey God; and you know the Bible says: 'We ought to obey God ratherthan men. '"

"I am afraid, my dear, " said Mr. Travilla gently, "that you are perhaps alittle too much inclined to judge for yourself about right and wrong. Youmust remember that you are but a very little girl yet, and that yourfather is very much older and wiser; and therefore I should say it wouldbe much safer to leave it to him to decide these matters. Besides, ifhe _bids_ you do thus and so, I think all the responsibility of thewrong--supposing there _is_ any--will rest with _him_, and _he_, not_you_, will have to account for it. "

"Oh! no, Mr. Travilla, " replied the little girl earnestly, "my Bibleteaches me better than that; for it says: '_Every one_ of us shall giveaccount of _himself_ to God;' and in another place: 'The soul thatsinneth _it_ shall die. ' So I know that _I_, and not papa, nor any oneelse, will have to give account for _my_ sins. "

"I see it will never do for me to try to quote Scripture to you, " heremarked, looking rather discomfited; "for you know a great deal moreabout it than I do. But I am very anxious to see you and your fatherfriends again, for I cannot bear to see you both looking so unhappy. 

"You have a good father, Elsie, and one that you may well be proudof--for a more high-minded, honorable gentleman cannot be found anywhere;and I am quite sure he would never require you to do anything very wrong. Have you any objection, my dear, to telling me what it is?"

"He bade me read to him, one Sabbath-day, a book which was only fit forweek-day reading, because it had nothing at all in it about God, or beinggood--and I could not do that; and now he says I must say I am sorry Irefused to obey him that time, and promise always to do exactly as hebids me in future, " replied Elsie, weeping; "and oh! Mr. Travilla, Icannot do that. I cannot say I am sorry I did not disobey God, nor thatI will disobey him in future, if papa bids me. "

"But if that was a sin, Elsie, it was surely a very _little_ one; I don'tthink God would be very angry with you for anything so small as that, " hesaid very gravely. 

"Mr. Travilla, " Elsie replied in a tone of deep solemnity, "it iswritten, 'Cursed is every one that continueth not in _all_ things whichare written in the book of the law to do them;' _that_ is in the Bible;and the catechism says: '_Every sin_ deserveth the wrath and curse ofGod!' And oh! Mr. Travilla, " she added in a tone of anguish, "if youknew how _hard_ it is for me to keep from giving up, and doing what myconscience says is wrong, you wouldn't try to persuade me to do it. "

Mr. Travilla knew not what to say; he was both perplexed and distressed. 

But just at that moment a step was heard coming down the path. Elsierecognized it instantly, and began to tremble, and the next moment herfather entered the arbor. 

Mr. Dinsmore felt a pang of jealousy at seeing his little girl inTravilla's arms, which he would have been ashamed to acknowledge tohimself, but it caused his tone to be even more than usually stern andsevere as he hastily inquired, "What are you doing here, Elsie--cryingagain, after all I have said to you? Go to your room this moment, andstay there until you can show a cheerful face!"

Mr. Travilla set her down, and she obeyed without a word, not even daringto look at her father. 

There was a moment of embarrassing silence after she had gone. 

Then Travilla said, "It seems Elsie stumbled upon me here quiteunexpectedly, and I detained her somewhat against her will, I believe, and have been doing my best to persuade her that she ought to be entirelysubmissive to you. "

Mr. Dinsmore looked interested, but replied with a sigh, "I fear you didnot succeed; she is sadly obstinate, and I begin to fear I shall have touse great severity before I can conquer her. "

Mr. Travilla hesitated a moment, then said, "I am afraid, Dinsmore, thatshe has the right of it; she quoted Scripture to me till I really had nomore to say. "

Mr. Dinsmore looked displeased. 

"_I_ should think, " he said almost haughtily, "that the fifth commandmentwould be answer enough to any argument she could bring to excuse herdisobedience. "

"We do not all see alike, Dinsmore, " remarked his friend, "and though Ido not say that you are wrong, I must acknowledge that were I in yourplace, I should do differently, because I should fear that the child wasacting from _principle_ rather than self-will or obstinacy. "

"_Give up_ to her, Travilla? never! It astonishes me that you couldsuggest such a thing!" exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore with almost fiercedetermination. "No, I _will_ conquer her! I will break _her will_, though in doing so I break my own heart. "

"And _hers_, too, " murmured Travilla in a low, sad tone, more as ifthinking aloud than answering his friend. 

Mr. Dinsmore started. "No, no, " he said hurriedly, "there is no danger of_that_; else she would certainly have given up long ago. "

Travilla shook his head, but made no reply; and presently Mr. Dinsmorerose and led the way to the house. 

CHAPTER VI. 

"The storm of grief bears hard upon her youth, And bends her, like a drooping flower, to earth. "

ROWE'S FAIR PENITENT. 

"You are not looking quite well yet, Mr. Dinsmore, " remarked a ladyvisitor, who called one day to see the family; "and your little daughter, I think, looks as if she, too, had been ill; she is very thin, and seemsto have entirely lost her bright color. "

Elsie had just left the room a moment before the remark was made. 

Mr. Dinsmore started slightly. 

"I believe she _is_ a little pale, " he replied in a tone of annoyance;"but as she makes no complaint, I do not think there can be anythingseriously amiss. "

"Perhaps not, " said the lady indifferently; "but if she were _my_ child Ishould be afraid she was going into a decline. "

"Really, Mrs. Grey, I don't know what should put such a notion into yourhead!" exclaimed Mrs. Dinsmore, "for I assure you Elsie has always beena perfectly healthy child since I have known her. "

"Ah! well; it was but the thought of a moment, " replied Mrs. Grey, risingto take leave, "and I am glad to hear there is no ground for fear, forElsie is certainly a very sweet little girl. "

Mr. Dinsmore handed Mrs. Grey to her carriage, and re-entering the housewent into the little back parlor where Elsie, the only other occupant ofthe room, sat reading, in the corner of the sofa. 

He did not speak to her, but began pacing back and forth across thefloor. Mrs. Grey's words had alarmed him; he could not forget them, andwhenever in his walk his face was turned towards his child, he bent hiseyes upon her with a keen, searching gaze; and he was surprised that hehad not before noticed how thin, and pale, and careworn that little facehad grown. 

"Elsie, " he said suddenly, pausing in his walk. 

The child started and colored, as she raised her eyes from the book tohis face, asking, in a half tremulous tone, "What, papa?"

"Put down your book and come to me, " he replied, seating himself. 

His tone lacked its usual harshness, yet the little girl came to himtrembling so that she could scarcely stand. 

It displeased him. 

"Elsie, " he said, as he took her hand and drew her in between his knees, "why do you always start and change color when I speak to you? and whyare you trembling now as if you were venturing into the lion's jaws?--areyou afraid of me?--speak!"

"Yes, papa, " she replied, the tears rolling down her cheeks, "you alwaysspeak so sternly to me now, that I cannot help feeling frightened. "

"Well, I didn't intend to be stern this time, " he said more gently thanhe had spoken to her for a long while; "but tell me, my daughter, are youquite well?--you are growing very pale and thin, and I want to know ifanything ails you. "

"Nothing, papa, but--" the rest of her sentence was lost in a burst oftears. 

"But what?" he asked almost kindly. 

"Oh, papa! you know! I want your love. _How can I live without it_?"

"You need not, Elsie, " he answered very gravely, "you have only to bowthat stubborn will of yours, to have all the love and all the caressesyou can ask for. "

Wiping her eyes, she looked up beseechingly into his face, asking, inpleading tones, "_Dear_ papa, won't you give me one kiss--just _one_?Think how long I have been without one. "

"Elsie, say 'I am sorry, papa, that I refused to obey you on thatSabbath-day; will you please to forgive me? and I will always be obedientin future, ' That is all I require. Say it, and you will be at onceentirely restored to favor. "

"I am _very sorry_, dear papa, for _all_ the naughty things I have everdone, and I will always try to obey you, if you do not bid me break God'scommandments, " she answered in a low, tremulous tone. 

"That will not do, Elsie; it is not what I bid you say. I will have no_if_ in the matter; nothing but _implicit, unconditional_ obedience, " hesaid in a tone of severity. 

He paused for a reply, but receiving none, continued: "I see you arestill stubborn, and I shall be compelled to take severe measures tosubdue you. I do not yet know what they will be, but one thing iscertain--I will not keep a rebellious child in my sight; there areboarding-schools where children can be sent who are unworthy to enjoythe privileges and comforts of home. "

"Oh, papa! dear, _dear_ papa, don't send me away from you! I should die!"she cried in accents of terror and despair, throwing her arms around hisneck and clinging to him with a convulsive grasp. "Punish me in any otherway you choose; but oh! _don't_ send me where I cannot see you. "

He gently disengaged her arms, and without returning her caress, saidgravely, and almost sadly, "Go now to your room. I have not yet decidedwhat course to take, but you have only to submit, to escape _all_punishment. "

Elsie retired, weeping bitterly, passing Adelaide as she went out. 

"What is the matter now?" asked Adelaide of her brother, who was stridingimpatiently up and down the room. 

"Nothing but the old story, " he replied; "she is the most stubborn childI ever saw. Strange!" he added musingly, "I once thought her rather _too_yielding. Adelaide, " he said, sitting down by his sister, and leaning hishead upon his hand, with a deep-drawn sigh, "I am _terribly_ perplexed!This estrangement is killing us both. Have you noticed how thin and paleshe is growing? It distresses me to see it; but what can I do?--give upto her I cannot; it is not once to be thought of. I am sorry I ever beganthe struggle, but since it _is_ begun she _must_ and _shall_ submit; andit has really become a serious question with me, whether it would not bethe truest kindness just to conquer her thoroughly and at once, by anappeal to the rod. "

"Oh no, Horace, don't! don't think of such a thing, I beg of you!"exclaimed Adelaide, with tears in her eyes; "such a delicate, sensitivelittle creature as she is, I do believe it would quite break her heart tobe subjected to so ignominious a punishment; surely you could adopt someother measure less revolting to one's feelings, and yet perhaps quite aseffectual. I couldn't _bear_ to have you do it. I would try everythingelse first. "

"I assure you, Adelaide, it would be _exceedingly_ painful to myfeelings, " he said, "and yet so anxious am I to subdue Elsie, and endthis trying state of affairs, that were I certain of gaining my point, even by great severity, I would not hesitate a moment, but I am verydoubtful whether she could be conquered in that way, and I would notlike to undertake it unless I could carry it through. I hinted at aboarding-school, which seemed to alarm her very much; but I shall nottry it, at least not yet, for she is my only child, and I still loveher too well to give her up to the tender mercies of strangers. Ah!you don't know how strongly I was tempted to give her a kiss, just now, when she begged so hard for it. But what _shall_ I do with her, Adelaide?--have you no suggestion to make?"

"Indeed, I don't know what to say, Horace; I shouldn't like to give upto her, if I were you; it does seem as if you ought to conquer her, andif you don't do it now, I do not believe you ever will. "

"Yes, that is just it, " he said. "I have sometimes felt sorry for havingbegun the struggle, and yet perhaps it is just as well, since it musthave come sooner or later. Ten years hence I shall want to take heroccasionally to the theatre or opera, or perhaps now and then to a ball, and unless I can eradicate these ridiculously strict notions she has gotinto her head, she will be sure to rebel then, when she will be rathertoo old to punish, at least in the same way in which I might punish hernow. "

"A thought has just struck me, Horace, " said Adelaide suddenly. 

"Well, what is it?" he asked. 

Adelaide hesitated. She felt some little sympathy for Elsie, and did notquite like to propose a measure which she knew would give her great pain;but at length she said, in a half-regretful tone--

"I think, Horace, that Aunt Chloe upholds Elsie in her obstinacy, andmakes her think herself a martyr to principle, for you know she has thesame strange notions, which they both learned from the old housekeeper, Mrs. Murray, who was an old-fashioned Presbyterian, of the strictestsort; and now, as Elsie is still so young, it seems to me it might be_possible_ to change her views, if she were entirely removed from allsuch influences. But take notice, Horace, I do not advise it, for Iknow it would wellnigh break both their hearts. "

For a moment Mr. Dinsmore seemed lost in thought. Then he spoke:

"That is a wise suggestion, Adelaide. I thank you for it, and shallcertainly take it into consideration. Yet it is a measure I feel loth toadopt, for Chloe has been a most faithful creature. I feel that I owe hera debt of gratitude for the excellent care she has taken of Elsie, and ofher mother before her, and as you say, I fear it would wellnigh breakboth their hearts. But if less severe measures fail, I shall feelcompelled to try it, for I am more anxious than I can tell you tobring Elsie to unconditional obedience. "

"Here is a letter for you, Elsie, " said her grandfather, the nextmorning, at the breakfast-table. "Here, Pomp"--to the servant--"hand thisto Miss Elsie. "

The child's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she held out her handeagerly to take it. 

But her father interfered. 

"No, Pomp, " he said, "bring it to me; and remember, in future, that _I_am to receive _all_ Miss Elsie's letters. "

Elsie relinquished it instantly, without a word of remonstrance, but herheart was so full that she could not eat another morsel; and in spite ofall her efforts the tears would come into her eyes, as she saw her fatherdeliberately open and read the letter, and then refold and put it intohis pocket. He looked at her as he did so, and seeing the tears rollingdown her cheeks, sternly bade her leave the room, She obeyed, feeling more angry and rebellious toward him than she everhad before. It seemed so cruel and unjust to deprive her of her ownletters; one of Miss Rose's--as she knew it must be, for she had no othercorrespondent--which never contained anything but what was good, andkind, and comforting. They were always a great treat to the little girl, and she had been longer than usual without one, and had been lookinglongingly for it every day for several weeks past; for sad and lonely asher days now were, she felt very keenly the need of her friend's sympathyand love; and now to have this letter taken from her just as she laid herhand upon it, seemed a disappointment almost too great to be endured. Shehad a hard struggle with herself before she could put away entirely herfeelings of anger and impatience. 

"Oh! this is not honoring papa, " she said to herself; "he may have goodreasons for what he has done; and as _I_ belong to him, he certainly hasa sort of right to everything that is mine. I will try to be submissive, and wait patiently until he sees fit to give me my letter, as perhaps hewill, some time. "

All the morning the thought of her letter was scarcely out of her mind, and as soon as she was released from school duties, and dressed fordinner, she went down to the drawing-room, hoping that her father mightbe there, and that he would give it to her. 

But he was not in, and when he came, brought a number of strangers withhim, who remained until after tea; so that all the afternoon passed awaywithout affording her an opportunity to speak to him. But, to her greatjoy, the visitors all left early in the evening, excepting a very mild, pleasant-looking, elderly gentleman, who had settled himself in theportico, with Enna on his knees. 

Elsie was watching her fathers movements, and was not sorry to see him, after the departure of his guests, return to the drawing-room, and takeup the evening paper. 

No one else was at that end of the room, so now, at last, she might speakto him without fear of being overheard. She was glad, too, that his backwas towards her, for she had grown very timid about approaching him oflate. She stole softly up to the back of his chair, and stood there forsome moments without speaking; her heart beat so fast with mingled hopeand fear, that it seemed impossible to command her voice. 

But at last, coming to his side, she said, in a tone so low and tremulousas to be almost inaudible, "Papa. "

"Well, Elsie, what do you want?" he asked, with his eyes still on thepaper. 

"Dear papa, I do so want to see Miss Rose's letter; won't you please giveit to me?"

She waited a moment for a reply; then asked again, "May I not have it, papa?"

"Yes, Elsie, you may have _that_, and _everything_ else you want, just assoon as you show yourself a submissive, obedient child. "

Tears gathered in Elsie's eyes, but she resolutely forced them back, and made one more appeal. "_Dear_ papa, " she said, in pleading, tearfultones, "you don't know how I have looked and longed for that letter; andI _do want_ it so _very_ much; won't you let me see it just for a fewmoments?"

"You have your answer, Elsie, " he said coldly; "and it is the only one Ihave to give you. "

Elsie turned and walked away, silently crying as she went. 

But ere she had reached the door he called her back, and looking sternlyat her, as she again stood trembling and weeping at his side, "Remember, "he said, "that from this time forth, I forbid you to write or receive anyletters which do not pass through my hands, and I shall not allow you tocorrespond with Miss Allison, or any one else, indeed, until you become amore dutiful child. "

"Oh, papa! what will Miss Allison think if I don't answer her letter?"exclaimed Elsie, weeping bitterly. 

"I shall wait a few weeks, " he said, "to see if you are going to be abetter girl, and then, if you remain stubborn, I shall write to hermyself, and tell her that I have stopped the correspondence, and myreasons for doing so. "

"Oh, papa! _dear_ papa! _please_ don't do that!" cried the little girlin great distress. "I am afraid if you do she will never love me anymore, for she will think me such a very bad child. "

"If she does, she will only have a just opinion of you, " replied herfather coldly; "and _all_ your friends will soon cease to love you, ifyou continue to show such a wilful temper; my patience is almost wornout, Elsie, and I shall try some very severe measures before long, unlessyou see proper to submit. Go now to your own room; I do not wish to seeyou again to-night. "

"Good-night, papa, " sobbed the little girl, as she turned to obey him. 

"Elsie, my daughter, " he said, suddenly seizing her hand, and drawing herto his side, "why will you not give up this strange wilfulness, and letyour papa have his own darling again? I love you dearly, my child, and itpains me more than I can express to see you so unhappy, " he added, gentlypushing back the curls from the little tear-stained face upturned to his. 

His tone had all the old fondness, and Elsie's heart thrilled at the verysound; his look, too, was tender and affectionate, and throwing down hispaper he lifted her to his knee, and passed his arm around her waist. 

Elsie laid her head against his breast, as was her wont before theirunhappy estrangement, while he passed his hand caressingly over hercurls. 

"Speak, my daughter, " he said in a low tone, full of tenderness; "speak, and tell papa that he has his own dutiful little daughter again. Hisheart aches to receive her; must he do without her still?"

The temptation to yield was very strong. She loved him, oh, how dearly!Could she bear to go on making him unhappy? And it was such _rest_--such_joy_--thus once more to feel herself folded to his heart, and hear hisdear voice speaking to her in loving, tender tones. Can it be wondered atthat for a moment Elsie wavered? On the one hand she saw her father'sfond affection, indulgent kindness, and loving caresses; on the other, banishment from his love, perhaps from home, cold, stern, harsh wordsand looks; and what more might be meant by the very severe measuresthreatened, she trembled to think. 

For a moment she was silent, for a mighty struggle was going on in herheart. It was hard, _very_ hard, to give up her father's love. But thelove of Jesus!--ah, that was more precious still!

The struggle was past. 

"Papa, " she said, raising an earnest, tearful little face to his, andspeaking in tones tremulous with emotion, "dear, _dear_ papa, I do loveyou so very, _very_ much, and I do want to be to you a good, obedientchild; but, papa, Jesus says, 'He that loveth father or mother more thanme, is not worthy of me, ' and I must love Jesus best, and keep _his_commandments _always_. But you bid me say that I am sorry I refused tobreak them; and that I will yield implicit obedience to you, even thoughyou should command me to disobey him. Oh, papa, I cannot do _that_, eventhough you should never love me again; even though you should put me todeath. "

The cold, stern expression had returned to his face before she had halffinished, and putting her off his knee, he said, in his severest tone, "Go, disobedient, rebellious child! How often have I told you that youare too young to judge of such matters, and must leave all that to me, your father and natural guardian, whom the Bible itself commands you toobey. I will find means to conquer you yet, Elsie. If affection and mildmeasures will not do it, severity shall. "

He rose and walked hastily up and down the floor, excited and angry, while poor Elsie went weeping from the room. 

"Is that one of your sisters, my dear?" asked the old gentleman of Enna, as he saw the sobbing Elsie pass through the hall, on her way up-stairs. 

"No; that is brother Horace's daughter, " replied Enna scornfully; "she isa real naughty girl, and won't mind her papa at all. "

"Ah!" said the old gentleman gravely, "I am sorry to hear it; but I hopeyou will always obey your papa. "

"Indeed, my papa lets me do _just_ as I please, " said Enna, with a littletoss of her head. "_I_ don't have to mind anybody. "

"Ah! then I consider you a very unfortunate child, " remarked the oldgentleman, still more gravely; "for it is by no means good for a littleone like you to have too much of her own way. "

Mr. Grier--for that was the old gentleman's name--had been muchinterested in the little Elsie's appearance. He had noticed the lookof sadness on her fair young face, and conjectured, from somethingin the manner of the rest of the family toward her, that she was indisgrace; yet he was sure there was no stubbornness or self-will in theexpression of that meek and gentle countenance. He began to suspect thatsome injustice had been done the little girl, and determined to watch andsee if she were indeed the naughty child she was represented to be, andif he found her as good as he was inclined to believe, to try to gainher confidence, and see if he could help her out of her troubles. 

But Elsie did not come down again that evening, and though he saw her atthe breakfast-table the next morning, she slipped away so immediatelyafter the conclusion of the meal, that he had no opportunity to speak toher; and at dinner it was just the same. 

But in the afternoon, seeing her walk out alone, he put on his hat andfollowed at a little distance. She was going toward the quarter, and hepresently saw her enter a cabin where, he had been told, a poor oldcolored woman was lying ill, perhaps on her death-bed. 

Very quietly he drew near the door of the hut, and seating himself on alow bench on the outside, found that he could both see and hear all thatwas going on without himself being perceived, as Elsie had her back tothe door, and poor old Dinah was blind. 

"I have come to read to you again, Aunt Dinah, " said the little girl, inher sweet, gentle tones. 

"Tank you, my young missus; you is bery kind, " replied the old womanfeebly. 

Elsie had already opened her little Bible, and in the same sweet, gentlevoice in which she had spoken, she now read aloud the third chapter ofSt. John's gospel. 

When she had finished reading the sixteenth verse--"God so loved theworld that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in himshould not perish, but have everlasting life, "--she paused and exclaimed, "Oh! Aunt Dinah, is not that beautiful? Does it not make you glad? Yousee it does not say whosoever is good and holy, or whosoever has notsinned, but it is whosoever believes in Jesus, the only begotten Son ofGod. If it was only the good, Aunt Dinah, you and I could never hope tobe saved, because we are both great sinners. "

"Not you, Miss Elsie! not you, darlin', " interrupted the old woman; "oleDinah's a great sinner, she knows dat well nuff--but you, darlin', younever did nuffin bad. "

"Yes, Dinah, " said the little voice in saddened tones, "I have a verywicked heart, and have been a sinner all my life; but I know that Jesusdied to save sinners, and that whosoever believes in him shall haveeternal life, and I do believe, and I want you to believe, and then you, too, will be saved. "

"Did de good Lord Jesus die for poor ole Dinah, Miss Elsie?" she askedeagerly. 

"Yes, Aunt Dinah, if you will believe in him; it says for _whosoeverbelieveth_. "

"Ole Dinah dunno how to believe, chile; can't do it nohow. "

"You must ask God to teach you, Dinah, " replied the little girlearnestly, "for the Bible says 'faith'--that means believing--'is thegift of God. '"

"You don't mean _dat_, Miss Elsie! You don't mean dat God will save poorole Dinah, an' gib her hebben, an' all for nuffin?" she inquired, raisingherself on her elbow in her eagerness. 

"Yes, Dinah; God says without money and without price; can't you believehim? Suppose I should come and put a hundred dollars in your hand, saying, 'Here, Aunt Dinah, I _give_ you this; you are old, and sick, andpoor, and I know you can do nothing to earn it, but it is a _free_ gift, just _take_ it and it is yours;' wouldn't you believe me, and take it?"

"_'Deed_ I would, Miss Elsie, kase you nebber tole nuffin but de truff. "

"Well, then, can't you believe God when he says that he will save you?Can't you believe Jesus when he says, 'I _give_ unto them eternal life'?"

"Yes, yes, Miss Elsie! I do b'lieve; read de blessed words again, darlin'. "

Elsie read the verse again, and then finished the Chapter. Then closingthe book, she asked softly, "Shall we pray, now, Aunt Dinah?"

Dinah gave an eager assent; and Elsie, kneeling down by the bedside, prayed in simple, childlike words that Jesus would reveal himself to poorold Dinah, as _her_ Saviour; that the Holy Spirit would be her sanctifierand comforter, working faith in her, and thereby uniting her to Christ;that God would adopt her into his family, and be her God and portionforever; and that Jesus would be her shepherd, so that she need fear noevil, even though called to pass through the dark valley of the shadow ofdeath. 

"Amen!" was Dinah's fervent response to each of the petitions. 

"De good Lord bless you, darlin', " she said, taking Elsie's little whitehand in hers, and pressing it to her lips; "de good Lord bless an' keepyou, an' nebber let trouble come near you. You knows nuffin 'bout troublenow, for you's young, an' handsome, an' rich, an' good; an' Massa Horace, he doats on you; no, _you_ knows nuffin 'bout trouble, but ole Dinahdoes, kase she's ole, an' sick, an' full ob aches and pains. "

"Yes, Aunt Dinah, and I am very sorry for you; but remember, if youbelieve in Jesus, you will soon go to heaven, where you will never besick or in pain any more. But, Dinah, "--and the little voice grew verymournful--"we cannot always know when others are in trouble; and I wantyou to pray for me that I may always have strength to do right. "

"I will, darlin', 'deed I will, " said Dinah earnestly, kissing the littlehand again ere she released it. 

As Elsie ceased speaking, Mr. Grier slipped quietly away, and continuedhis walk. From what he had just seen and heard, he felt fully convincedthat Elsie was not the wicked, disobedient child Enna had representedher to be; yet he knew that Enna was not alone in her opinion, since itwas very evident that Elsie was in disgrace with the whole family--herfather especially--and that she was very unhappy. He felt his heart drawnout in sympathy for the child, and longed to be able to assist her inregaining her father's favor, yet he knew not how to do it, for how washe to learn the facts in the case without seeming to pry into the familysecrets of his kind entertainers? But there was one comfort he could dofor her--what she had so earnestly asked of Dinah--and he would. As hecame to this resolution he turned about and began to retrace his stepstoward the house. To his surprise and pleasure, upon turning around athicket, he came suddenly upon Elsie herself, seated upon a bench undera tree, bending over her little Bible, which lay open on her lap, andupon which her quiet tears were dropping, one by one. 

She did not seem aware of his presence, and he stood a moment gazingcompassionately upon her, ere he spoke. 

"My dear little girl, what is the matter?" he asked in a gentle tone, full of sympathy and kindness, seating himself by her side. 

Elsie started, and raising her head, hastily brushed away her tears. 

"Good evening, sir, " she said, blushing painfully, "I did not know youwere here. "

"You must excuse my seeming intrusion, " replied the old gentleman, takingher hand in his. "I came upon you unawares, not knowing you were here;but now that we have met, will you not tell me the cause of your grief?Perhaps I may be able to assist you. "

"No, sir, " she said, "you could not do anything for me; but I thank youvery much for your kindness. "

"I think, " said he, after a moment's pause, "that I know something ofyour trouble; you have offended your father; is it not so, my dear?"

Elsie answered only by her tears, and he went on. 

Laying his hand upon the Bible, "Submission to parents, my dear child, "he said, "you know is enjoined in this blessed book; children are herecommanded to honor and obey their father and mother; it is _God's_command, and if you love his holy word, you will obey its precepts. Surely your father will forgive, and receive you into favor, if you showyourself penitent and submissive?"

"I love my papa very, _very_ dearly, " replied Elsie, weeping, "and I dowant to obey him; but he does not love Jesus, and sometimes he bids mebreak God's commandments, and then I cannot obey him. "

"Is that it, my poor child?" said her friend pityingly. "Then you areright in not obeying; but be _very sure_ that your father's commands_are_ opposed to those of God, before you refuse obedience; and be verycareful to obey him in all things in which you can conscientiously doso. "

"I do try, sir, " replied Elsie meekly. 

"Then be comforted, my dear little girl. God has surely sent you thistrial for some wise and kind purpose, and in his own good time he willremove it. Only be patient and submissive. He can change your father'sheart, and for that you and I will both pray. "

Elsie looked her thanks as they rose to return to the house, but herheart was too full for speech, and she walked silently along beside hernew friend, who continued to speak words of comfort and encouragementto her, until they reached the door, where he bade her good-by, sayingthat he was sorry he was not likely to see her again, as he must leaveRoselands that afternoon, but promising not to forget her in his prayers. 

When Elsie reached her room, Chloe told her her father had sent word thatshe was to come to him as soon as she returned from her walk, and thatshe would find him in his dressing-room. 

Chloe had taken off the little girl's hat and smoothed her hair ereshe delivered the message, and with a beating heart Elsie proceededimmediately to obey it. 

In answer to her timid knock, her father himself opened the door. 

"Mammy told me that you wanted me, papa, " she said in a tremulous voice, and looking up timidly into his face. 

"Yes, I sent for you; come in, " he replied; and taking her by the handhe led her forward to the arm-chair from which he had just risen, wherehe again seated himself, making her stand before him very much like aculprit in the presence of her judge. 

There was a moment's pause, in which Elsie stood with her head bentdown and her eyes upon the carpet, trembling with apprehension, and notknowing what new trial might be in store for her. Then she ventured tolook at her father. 

His face was sad and distressed, but very stern. 

"Elsie, " he began at length, speaking in slow, measured tones, "I toldyou last evening that should you still persist in your resistance to myauthority, I should feel compelled to take severe measures with you. Ihave now decided what those measures are to be. Henceforth, so long asyou continue rebellious, you are to be banished entirely from the familycircle; your meals must be taken in your own apartment, and though Ishall not reduce your fare to bread and water, it will be very plain--nosweetmeats--no luxuries of any kind. I shall also deprive you entirely ofpocket-money, and of all books excepting your Bible and school-books, andforbid you either to pay or receive any visits, telling all who inquirefor you, why you cannot be seen. You are also to understand that I forbidyou to enter any apartment in the house excepting your own and theschool-room--unless by my express permission--and never to go out at all, even to the garden, excepting to take your daily exercise, accompaniedalways and only by a servant. You are to go on with your studies asusual, but need not expect to be spoken to by any one but your teacher, as I shall request the others to hold no communication with you. This isyour sentence. It goes into effect this very hour, but becomes null andvoid the moment you come to me with acknowledgments of penitence for thepast, and promises of implicit obedience for the future. "

Elsie stood like a statue; her hands clasped, and her eyes fixed upon thefloor. She had grown very pale while her father was speaking, and therewas a slight quivering of the eyelids and of the muscles of the mouth, but she showed no other sign of emotion. 

"Did you hear me, Elsie?" he asked. 

"Yes, papa, " she murmured, in a tone so low it scarcely reached his ear. 

"Well, have you anything to say for yourself before I send you back toyour room?" he asked in a somewhat softened tone. 

He felt a little alarmed at the child's unnatural calmness; but it wasall gone in a moment. Sinking upon her knees she burst into a fit ofpassionate weeping. "Oh! papa, papa!" she sobbed, raising her streamingeyes to his face, "will you never, _never_ love me any more?--must Inever come near you, or speak to you again?"

He was much moved. 

"I did not say _that_, Elsie, " he replied. "I hope most sincerely thatyou _will_ come to me before long with the confessions and promises Irequire; and then, as I have told you so often, I will take you to myheart again, as fully as ever. Will you not do it at once, and spare methe painful necessity of putting my sentence into execution?" he asked, raising her gently, and drawing her to his side. 

"Dear papa, you know I cannot, " she sobbed. 

"Then return at once to your room; my sentence must be enforced, thoughit break both your heart and mine, for I _will_ be obeyed. _Go_!" hesaid, sternly putting her from him. And weeping and sobbing, feeling likea homeless, friendless outcast from society, Elsie went back to her room. 

The next two or three weeks were very sad and dreary ones to the poorlittle girl. Her father's sentence was rigidly enforced; she scarcelyever saw him excepting at a distance, and when once or twice he passedher in going in and out, he neither looked at nor spoke to her. Miss Daytreated her with all her former severity and injustice, and no one elsebut the servants ever addressed her. 

She went out every day for an hour or two, in obedience to her father'scommand, but her walks and rides were sad and lonely; and during the restof the day she felt like a prisoner, for she dared not venture even intothe garden, where she had always been in the habit of passing the greaterpart of her leisure hours, in the summer season. 

But debarred from all other pleasures, Elsie read her Bible more and moreconstantly, and with ever increasing delight; it was more than meat anddrink to her; she there found consolation under every affliction, asolace for every sorrow. Her trial was a heavy one; her little heartoften ached sadly with its intense longing for an earthly father's loveand favor; yet in the midst of it all, she was conscious of a deep, abiding peace, flowing from a sweet sense of pardoned sin, and aconsciousness of a Saviour's love. 

At first Elsie greatly feared that she would not be allowed to attendchurch, as usual, on the Sabbath. But Mr. Dinsmore did not care to excitetoo much remark, and so, as Elsie had always been very regular in herattendance, to her great joy she was still permitted to go. 

No one spoke to her, however, or seemed to take the least notice of her;but she sat by her father's side, as usual, both in the carriage and inthe pew, and there was some pleasure even in that, though she scarcelydared even to lift her eyes to his face. Once during the sermon, on thethird Sabbath after their last interview, she ventured to do so, and wasso overcome by the sight of his pale, haggard looks, that utterly unableto control her emotion, she burst into tears, and almost sobbed aloud. 

"Elsie, " he said, bending down, and speaking in a stern whisper, "you_must control_ yourself. "

And with a mighty effort she swallowed down her tears and sobs. 

He took no further notice of her until they were again at their own door, when, lifting her from the carriage, he took her by the hand and led herto his own room. Shutting the door, he said sternly, "Elsie, what did youmean by behaving so in church? I was ashamed of you. "

"I could not help it, papa; indeed I could not, " replied the little girl, again bursting into tears. 

"What were you crying about? tell me at once, " he said, sitting down andtaking off her bonnet, while she stood trembling before him. 

"Oh, papa! dear, _dear_ papa!" she cried, suddenly throwing her armsround his neck, and laying her cheek to his; "I love you so much, thatwhen I looked at you, and saw how pale and thin you were, I couldn't helpcrying. "

"I do not understand, nor want such love, Elsie, " he said gravely, putting her from him; "it is not the right kind, or it would lead youto be docile and obedient. You certainly deserve punishment for yourbehavior this morning, and I am much inclined to say that you shall notgo to church again for some time. "

"Please, papa, don't say that, " she replied tearfully; "I will try neverto do so again. "

"Well, " he replied, after a moment's reflection, "I shall punish youto-day by depriving you of your dinner, and if you repeat the offence Ishall whip you. "

Elsie's little face flushed crimson. 

"I know it is an ignominious punishment, Elsie, " said her father, "andI feel very loth to try it with you, but I greatly fear I shall becompelled to do so before I can subdue your rebellious spirit; it willbe the _very last_ resort, however. Go now to your room. "

This last threat might almost be said to have given Elsie a new dread;for though his words on several former occasions had seemed to implysomething of the sort, she had always put away the thought as that ofsomething too dreadful to happen. But now he had spoken plainly, and thetrial to her seemed inevitable, for she could never give the requiredpromise, and she knew, too, that he prided himself on keeping his word, to the very letter. 

Poor little girl! she felt very much like a martyr in prospect of tortureor the stake. For a time she was in deep distress; but she carried _this_trouble, like all the rest, to her Saviour, and found relief; manyprecious, comforting texts being brought to her mind: "The king's heartis in the hand of the Lord as the rivers of water: he turneth itwhithersoever he will. " "My grace is sufficient for thee. " "As thy days, so shall thy strength be. " These, and others of a like import, came toher remembrance in this hour of fear and dread, and assured her that herheavenly Father would either save her from that trial, or give herstrength to endure it; and she grew calm and peaceful again. 

"The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into itand is safe. "

CHAPTER VII. 

"Alone! alone! how drear it isAlways to be alone!"

WILLES

It was only a few days after Adelaide had suggested to her brother thepropriety of separating Elsie from her nurse, that he had the offer of avery fine estate in the immediate neighborhood of his father'splantation. 

Mr. Granville, the present owner, was about removing to a distant partof the country, and having become somewhat reduced in circumstances, wasanxious to sell, and as the place suited Mr. Dinsmore exactly, they werenot long in coming to an arrangement, satisfactory to both, by which itpassed into his hands. 

Horace Dinsmore had inherited a large fortune from his mother, and havingplenty of money at his command, he immediately set about making sundryimprovements upon his new purchase; laying out the grounds, and repairingand enlarging the already fine old mansion, adding all the modernconveniences, and furnishing it in the most tasteful and elegant style. 

And so "Rumor, with her thousand tongues, " soon had it noised abroad thathe was about to bring home a second wife, and to that cause manyattributed Elsie's pale and altered looks. 

Such, however, was not Mr. Dinsmore's intention. 

"I must have a housekeeper, " he said to Adelaide. "I shall send Chloethere. She will do very well for the present, and it will give me theopportunity I desire of separating her from Elsie, while in the meantimeI can be looking out for a better. "

"But you are not going to leave us yourself, Horace?" said his sisterinquiringly. 

"Not immediately, Adelaide; I intend to end this controversy with Elsiefirst, and I indulge the hope that the prospect of sharing such a homewith me as soon as she submits, will go far towards subduing her. "

Mr. Dinsmore shrank from the thought of Elsie's grief, if forced to partfrom her nurse; but he was not a man to let his own feelings, or those ofothers, prevent him from carrying out any purpose he had formed, if, asin this case, he could persuade himself that he was doing right. Andso--all his arrangements being now made--the very morning after his lateinterview with Elsie, Chloe was summoned to his presence. 

He informed her of his purchase, and that it was his intention to sendher there to take charge of his house and servants, for the present. 

Chloe, who was both extremely surprised and highly flattered by thisproof of her young master's confidence, looked very much delighted, as, with a low courtesy, she expressed her thanks, and her willingness toundertake the charge. But a sudden thought struck her, and she askedanxiously if "her child" was to go with her. 

Mr. Dinsmore said "_No_, " very decidedly; and when Chloe told him thatthat being the case, she would much rather stay where she was, if hewould let her, he said she could not have any choice in the matter; _she_must go, and Elsie must stay. 

Chloe burst into an agony of tears and sobs, begging to know why she wasto be separated from the child she had loved and cherished ever since herbirth; the child committed to her charge by her dying mother? What hadshe done to so displease her master, that he had determined to subjecther to such a bitter trial?

Mr. Dinsmore was a good deal moved by her grief, but still not to beturned from his purpose. He merely waited until she had grown somewhatcalmer, and then, in a tone of great kindness, but with much firmness anddecision, replied, "that he was not angry with her; that he knew she hadbeen very faithful in her kind care of his wife and child, and he shouldalways take care of her, and see that she was made comfortable as long asshe lived; but, for reasons which he did not think necessary to explain, he considered it best to separate her from Elsie for a time; he knew itwould be hard for them both, but it _must_ be done, and tears andentreaties would be utterly useless; she must prepare to go to her newhome that very afternoon. "

So saying he dismissed her, and she went back to Elsie's room wellnighheart-broken; and there the little girl found her when she came in fromschool duties, sitting beside the trunk she had just finished packing, crying and sobbing as she had never seen her before. 

"Oh, mammy, mammy! what _is_ the matter? _dear_ old mammy, what ailsyou?" she asked, running to her, and throwing her arms around her neck. 

Chloe clasped her to her breast, sobbing out that she must leave her. "Massa Horace was going to send her away from her precious child. "

Elsie was fairly stunned by the announcement, and for a moment could notspeak one word. To be separated from her beloved nurse who had alwaystaken care of her!--who seemed almost necessary to her existence. It wassuch a calamity as even her worst fears had never suggested, for theynever had been parted, even for a single day; but wherever the littlegirl went, if to stay more than a few hours, her faithful attendant hadalways accompanied her, and she had never thought of the possibility ofdoing without her. 

She unclasped her arms from Chloe's neck, disengaging herself from herloving grasp, stood for a moment motionless and silent; then, suddenlysinking down upon her nurse's lap, again wound her arms about her neck, and hid her face on her bosom, sobbing wildly: "Oh, mammy, mammy! youshall not go! Stay with me, mammy! I've nobody to love me now but you, and my heart will break if you leave me. Oh, mammy, say that you won'tgo!"

Chloe could not speak, but she took the little form again in her arms, and pressed it to her bosom in a close and fond embrace, while theymingled their tears and sobs together. 

But Elsie started up suddenly. 

"I will go to papa!" she exclaimed; "I will beg him on my knees to letyou stay! I will tell him it will kill me to be parted from my dear oldmammy. "

"'Tain't no use, darlin'! Massa Horace, he say I _must_ go; an' you knowwhat dat means, well as I do, " said Chloe, shaking her head mournfully;"he won't let me stay, nohow. "

"But I must try, mammy, " Elsie answered, moving toward the door. "I thinkpapa loves me a little yet, and maybe he will listen. "

But she met a servant in the hall who told her that her father had goneout, and that she heard him say he would not return before tea-time. 

And Chloe was to go directly after dinner; so there was no hope of areprieve, nothing to do but submit as best they might to the sadnecessity of parting; and Elsie went back to her room again, to spendthe little time that remained in her nurse's arms, sobbing out herbitter grief upon her breast. It was indeed a hard, hard trial to themboth; yet neither uttered one angry or complaining word against Mr. Dinsmore. 

Fanny, one of the maids, brought up Elsie's dinner, but she could noteat. Chloe's appetite, too, had failed entirely; so they remained lockedin each other's embrace until Jim came to the door to tell Chloe thecarriage was waiting which was to convey her to her new home. 

Once more she strained her nursling to her breast, sobbing out the words:"Good-by, darlin'! de good Lord bless an' keep you forebber an' ebber, an' nebber leave you alone. "

"Oh, mammy, mammy, don't leave me!" almost shrieked the child, clingingto her with a convulsive grasp. 

"Don't now, darlin'! don't go for to break dis ole heart! You knows I_must_ go, " said Chloe, gently disengaging herself. "We'll ask de Lord tobring us together again soon, dear chile, an' I think he will 'forelong, " she whispered in Elsie's ear; and with another fond caress sheleft her all drowned in tears, and half fainting with grief. 

An hour might have passed--it seemed longer than that to Elsie--whenthe door opened, and she started up from the sofa, where she had flungherself in the first abandonment of her sorrow. But it was only Fanny, come to tell her that Jim had brought her horse to the door, and toprepare her for her ride. 

She quietly submitted to being dressed; but, ah! how strange it seemed tohave any other than Chloe's hands busy about her! It swelled her youngheart wellnigh to bursting, though Fanny, who evidently understood herbusiness well, was very kind and attentive, and full of unobtrusivesympathy and love for her young charge. 

The brisk ride in the fresh air did Elsie good, and she returned quitecalm and composed, though still very sad. 

Fanny was in waiting to arrange her dress again, and when that was done, went down to bring up her supper. It was more tempting than usual, butElsie turned from it with loathing. 

"Do, Miss Elsie, _please_ do try to eat a little, " urged Fanny, withtears in her eyes. "What will Massa Horace say if he axes me 'bout youreatin' an' I'm 'bliged to tell him you didn't eat never a mouthful ofdinner, an' likewise not the first crumb of your supper?"

That, as Fanny well knew, was a powerful argument with Elsie, who, dreading nothing so much as her father's displeasure, which was sure tobe excited by such a report of her conduct, sat down at once and did herbest to make a substantial meal. 

Fanny was not more than half satisfied with the result of her efforts;but seeing it was useless to press her any further, silently cleared awaythe tea-things and carried them down-stairs, and Elsie was left alone. 

Alone! She looked around upon the familiar furniture with a strangefeeling of desolation; an over-powering sense of loneliness came overher; she missed the dear face that had been familiar to her from herearliest infancy, and had ever looked so lovingly upon her; the kind armswont to fold her in a fond embrace to that heart ever beating with suchtrue, unalterable affection for her; that breast, where she might everlean her aching head, and pour out all her sorrows, sure of sympathy andcomfort. 

She could not stay there, but passing quickly out on to the balconyupon which the windows of her room opened, she stood leaning againstthe railing, her head resting upon the top of it, and the silent tearsdropping one by one upon the floor. 

"Oh, mammy, mammy!" she murmured half aloud, "why did you leave your poorheart-broken child? How can I live without you--without any one to loveme?"

"Elsie, " said Mr. Dinsmore's voice, close at her side, "I suppose youthink me a very cruel father thus to separate you from your nurse. Is itnot so?"

"Papa, dear papa, don't say that, " she cried with a burst of sobs andtears, as she turned hastily round, and taking his hand in both of hers, looked up pleadingly into his face. "I know you have a right to do it, papa; I know I belong to you, and you have a right to do as you will withme, and I will try to submit without murmuring, but I cannot help feelingsad, and shedding some tears. "

"I am not blaming you for crying now; it is quite excusable under thecircumstances, " he replied in a slightly softened tone, adding, "I takeno pleasure in causing you sorrow, Elsie; and though I have sent awayyour nurse, I have provided you with another servant, who will, I think, be respectful and kind, and attentive to all your wishes. If she is not, you have only to complain to me, and she shall be at once removed, andher place supplied by another. And I have good reasons for what I amdoing. You have resisted my authority for a long time now, and I must trythe effect of placing you under new influences. I fear Chloe has, atleast tacitly, encouraged you in your rebellion, and therefore I intendto keep you apart until you have learned to be submissive and obedient. "

"Dear papa, " replied the little girl meekly, "you wrong poor mammy, ifyou think she would ever uphold me in disobedience to you; for on thecontrary, she has always told me that I ought, on all occasions, to yielda ready and cheerful obedience to every command, or even _wish_ of yours, unless it was contrary to the word of God. "

"There! that is just it!" said he, interrupting her with a frown; "sheand Mrs. Murray have brought you up to believe that you and they arewiser and more capable of interpreting the Bible, and deciding questionsof right and wrong, than your father; and that is precisely the notionthat I am determined to get out of your head. "

She opened her lips to reply, but bidding her be silent, he turned toleave her; but she clung to him, looking beseechingly up into his face. 

"Well, " he said, "what is it--what do you want?"

She struggled for utterance. 

"Oh, papa!" she sobbed, "I feel so sad and lonely to-night--will you notsit down a little while and take me on your knee?--my heart aches so tolay my head against you just for one moment. Oh, papa, dear papa, willyou not let me--will you not kiss me once, _just once_? You know I am allalone!--_all alone_!"

He could not resist her pleading looks and piteous accents. A teartrembled in his eye, and hastily seating himself, he drew her to hisknee, folded her for an instant in his arms, laid her head against hisbreast, kissed her lips, her brow, her cheek; and then putting her fromhim, without speaking a word, walked quickly away. 

Elsie stood for a moment where he had left her, then sinking on her kneesbefore the sofa, whence he had just risen, she laid her head down uponit, weeping and sobbing most bitterly, "Oh! papa, papa! oh, mammy, mammy, dear, dear mammy! you are all gone, all gone! and I am alone! alone! allalone!--nobody to love me--nobody to speak to me. Oh, mammy! Oh, papa!come back, come back to me--to your poor little Elsie, for my heart isbreaking. "

Alas! that caress, so earnestly pleaded for, had only by contrastincreased her sense of loneliness and desolation. But in the midst ofher bitter grief a loving, gentle voice came to her ear, whispering insweetest tones, "_I_ will _never_ leave thee, nor forsake thee. " "Whenthy father and thy mother forsake thee, I, the Lord, will take thee up. ""I will deliver thee in six troubles; yea, in seven there shall no eviltouch thee. " And the sobs were hushed--the tears flowed more quietly, until at length they ceased altogether, and the little sorrowing onefell asleep. 

"As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you; and ye shallbe comforted. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

"No future hour can rend my heart like this, Save that which breaks it. "

MATURIN'S BERTRAM. 

"Unless thy law had been my delight, I should then have perished inmine affliction. "

PSALM 119: 92. 

Elsie was sitting alone in her room when there came a light tap on thedoor, immediately followed, much to the little girl's surprise, by theentrance of her Aunt Adelaide, who shut and locked the door behind her, saying, "I am glad you are quite alone; though, indeed, I suppose that isalmost always the case now-a-days. I see, " she continued, seating herselfby the side of the astonished child, "that you are wondering what hasbrought me to visit you, to whom I have not spoken for so many weeks; butI will tell you. I come from a sincere desire to do you a kindness, Elsie; for, though I don't know how to understand nor excuse yourobstinacy, and heartily approve of your father's determination to conqueryou, I must say that I think he is unnecessarily harsh and severe in someof his measures--"

"Please don't, Aunt Adelaide, " Elsie interrupted, in a pleading voice, "please don't speak so of papa to me; for you know I ought not to hearit. "

"Pooh! nonsense!" said Adelaide, "it is very naughty in you to interruptme; but, as I was about to remark, I don't see any use in your beingforbidden to correspond with Miss Allison, because her letters could notpossibly do you any harm, but rather the contrary, for she is goodnessitself--and so I have brought you a letter from her which has just comeenclosed in one to me. "

She took it from her pocket as she spoke, and handed it to Elsie. 

The little girl looked longingly at it, but made no movement to take it. 

"Thank you, Aunt Adelaide, you are very kind indeed, " she said, withtears in her eyes, "and I should dearly love to read it; but I cannottouch it without papa's permission. "

"Why, you silly child! he will never know anything about it, " exclaimedher aunt quickly. "_I_ shall never breathe a word to him, nor to anybodyelse, and, of course, you will not tell on yourself; and if you areafraid the letter might by some mischance fall into his hands, justdestroy it as soon as you have read it. "

"Dear Aunt Adelaide, please take it away and don't tempt me any more, forI want it so very much I am afraid I shall take it if you do, and thatwould be so very wrong, " said Elsie, turning away her head. 

"I presume you are afraid to trust me; you needn't be, though, " repliedAdelaide, in a half offended tone. "Horace will never learn it from me, and there is no possible danger of his ever finding it out in any otherway, for I shall write to Rose at once, warning her not to send you anymore letters at present. "

"I am not at all afraid to trust you, Aunt Adelaide, nor do I think thereis any danger of papa's finding it out, " Elsie answered earnestly; "but Ishould know it myself, and God would know it, too, and you know he hascommanded me to obey my father in everything that is not wrong; and I_must_ obey him, no matter how hard it is. "

"Well, you are a strange child, " said Adelaide, as she returned theletter to her pocket and rose to leave the room; "such a compound ofobedience and disobedience I don't pretend to understand. "

Elsie was beginning to explain, but Adelaide stopped her, saying she hadno time to listen, and hastily quitted the room. 

Elsie brushed away a tear and took up her book again--for she had beenengaged in preparing a lesson for the next day, when interrupted by thisunexpected visit from her aunt. 

Adelaide went directly to her brother's door, and receiving an invitationto enter in answer to her knock, was the next instant standing by hisside, with Miss Allison's letter in her hand. 

"I've come, Horace, " she said in a lively tone, "to seek from you areward of virtue in a certain little friend of mine; and because youalone can bestow it, I come to you on her behalf, even at the expenseof having to confess a sin of my own. "

"Well, take a seat, won't you?" he said good-humoredly, laying down hisbook and handing her a chair, "and then speak out at once, and tell mewhat you mean by all this nonsense. "

"First for my own confession then, " she answered laughingly, acceptingthe offered seat. "I received a letter this morning from my friend, RoseAllison, enclosing one to your little Elsie. "

He began to listen with close attention, while a slight frown gathered onhis brow. 

"Now, Horace, " his sister went on, "though I approve in the main of yourmanagement of that child--which, by the way, I presume, is not of theleast consequence to you--yet I must say I have thought it right hard youshould deprive her of Rose's letters. So I carried this one, and offeredit to her, assuring her that you should never know anything about it;but what do you think?--the little goose actually refused to touch itwithout papa's permission. She _must_ obey him, she said, no matter howhard it was, whenever he did not bid her do anything wrong. And now, Horace, " she concluded, "I want you to give me the pleasure of carryingthis letter to her, with your permission to read it. I'm sure shedeserves it. "

"Perhaps so; but I am sure _you_ don't, Adelaide, after tampering withthe child's conscience in that manner. You may send her to me, though, ifyou will, " he said, holding out his hand for the letter. "But are youquite sure that she really wanted to see it, and felt assured that shemight do so without my knowledge?"

"Perfectly certain of it, " replied his sister confidently. 

They chatted for a few moments longer; Adelaide praising Elsie, andpersuading him to treat her with more indulgence; and he, much pleasedwith this proof of her dutifulness, half promising to do so; and thenAdelaide went back to her room, despatching a servant on her way to tellElsie that her papa desired to see her immediately. 

Elsie received the message with profound alarm; for not dreaming of thetrue cause, her fears at once suggested that he probably intended puttinghis late threat into execution. She spent one moment in earnest prayerfor strength to bear her trial, and then hastened, pale and trembling, tohis presence. 

How great, then, was her surprise to see him, as she entered, hold outhis hand with a smile, saying, in the kindest tone, "Come here to me, mydaughter!"

She obeyed, gazing wonderingly into his face. 

He drew her to him; lifted her to his knee; folded her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly. He had not bestowed such a loving caress uponher--nor indeed ever kissed her at all, excepting on the evening afterChloe's departure--since that unhappy scene in his sick-room; and Elsie, scarcely able to believe she was awake, and not dreaming, hid her face onhis breast, and wept for joy. 

"Your aunt has been here telling me what passed between you thisafternoon, " said he, repeating his caress, "and I am much pleased withthis proof of your obedience; and as a reward I will give you permission, not only to read the letter she offered you, but also the one I retained. And I will allow you to write to Miss Allison once, in answer to them, the letter passing through my hands. I have also promised, at your aunt'ssolicitation, to remove some of the restrictions I have placed upon you, and I now give you the same liberty to go about the house and groundswhich you formerly enjoyed. Your books and toys shall also be returned toyou, and you may take your meals with the family whenever you choose. "

"Thank you, papa, you are very kind, " replied the little girl; but herheart sank, for she understood from his words that she was not restoredto favor as she had for a moment fondly imagined. 

Neither spoke again for some moments. Each felt that this delightfulreunion--for it was delightful to both--this enjoyment of the interchangeof mutual affection, could not last. 

Silent caresses, mingled with sobs and tears on Elsie's part, passedbetween them; and at length Mr. Dinsmore said, "Elsie, my daughter, Ihope you are now ready to make the confession and promises I require?"

"Oh, papa! dear papa!" she said, looking up into his face with the tearsstreaming down her own, "have I not been punished enough for that? andcan you not just punish me whenever I disobey you, without requiring anypromise?"

"Stubborn yet, Elsie, " he answered with a frown. "No; as I have told youbefore, my word is as the law of the Medes and Persians, which alterednot. I have required the confession and promise, and _you must makethem_. "

He set her down, but she lingered a moment. "Once more, Elsie, I askyou, " he said, "will you obey?"

She shook her head; she could not speak. 

"Then go, " said her father. "I have given you the last caress I evershall, until you submit. "

He put the letters into her hand as he spoke, and motioned her to begone; and Elsie fled away to her own room, to throw herself upon the bed, and weep and groan in intense mental anguish. 

She cared not for the letters now; they lay neglected on the floor, wherethey had fallen unheeded from her hand. The gloom on her pathway seemedall the darker for that bright but momentary gleam of sunshine. So darkwas the cloud that overshadowed her that for the time she seemed to havelost all hope, and to be able to think of nothing but the apparentimpossibility of ever regaining her place in her father's heart. Hislast words rang in her ears. 

"Oh! papa, papa! my own papa!" she sobbed, "will you never love me again?never kiss me, or call me pet names? Oh, _how can_ I bear it! how canI ever live without your love?"

Her nerves, already weakened by months of mental suffering, could hardlybear the strain; and when Fanny came into the room, an hour or two later, she was quite frightened to find her young charge lying on the bed, holding her head with both hands and groaning, and speechless with pain. 

"What's de matter darlin'?" she asked; but Elsie only answered with amoan; and Fanny, in great alarm, hastened to Mr. Dinsmore's room, andstartled him with the exclamation: "Oh, Massa Horace, make haste for cometo de chile! she gwine die for sartain, if you don't do sumfin mightyquick!"

"Why, what ails her, Fanny?" he asked, following the servant with allspeed. 

"Dunno, Massa; but I'se sure she's berry ill, " was Fanny's reply, as sheopened the door of Elsie's room, and stepped back to allow her master topass in first. 

One glance at Elsie's face was enough to convince him that there was someground for her attendant's alarm. It was ghastly with its deadly pallorand the dark circles round the eyes, and wore an expression of intensepain. 

He proceeded at once to apply remedies, and remained beside her untilthey had so far taken effect that she was able to speak, and looked quitelike herself again. 

"Elsie!" he said in a grave, firm tone, as he placed her more comfortablyon her pillow, "this attack has been brought on by violent crying; youmust not indulge yourself in that way again. "

"I could not help it, papa, " she replied, lifting her pleading eyes tohis face. 

"You _must_ help it in future, Elsie, " he said sternly. 

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she struggled to keep them back. 

He turned to leave her, but she caught his hand, and looked sobeseechingly in his face, that he stopped and asked in a softenedtone, "What is it, my daughter?"

"Oh, papa!" she murmured in low, tremulous accents, "love me a little. "

"I do love you, Elsie, " he replied gravely, and almost sadly, as he bentover her and laid his hand upon her forehead. "I love you only too well, else I should have sent my stubborn little daughter away from me long erethis. "

"Then, papa, kiss me; just _once_, dear papa!" she pleaded, raising hertearful eyes to his face. 

"No, Elsie, not _once_ until you are entirely submissive. This stateof things is as painful to me as it into you, my daughter; but I cannotyield my authority, and I hope you will soon see that it is best foryou to give up your self-will. "

So saying, he turned away and left her alone; alone with that wearyhome-sickness of the heart, and the tears dropping silently down uponher pillow. 

Horace Dinsmore went back to his own room, where he spent the next halfhour in pacing rapidly to and fro, with folded arms and contracted brow. 

"Strange!" he muttered, "that she is _so hard_ to conquer. I neverimagined that she could be so stubborn. One thing is certain, " he added, heaving a deep sigh; "we must separate for a time, or I shall be indanger of yielding; for it is no easy matter to resist her tearfulpleadings, backed as they are by the yearning affection of my own heart. How I love the perverse little thing! Truly she has wound herself aroundmy very heart-strings. But I _must_ get these absurd notions out of herhead, or I shall never have any comfort with her; and if I yield _now_, I may as well just give that up entirely; besides, I have _said_ it; and_I will_ have her to understand that my word is law. "

And with another heavy sigh he threw himself upon the sofa, where he layin deep thought for some moments; then, suddenly springing up, he rangthe bell for his servant. 

"John, " he said, as the man appeared in answer to his summons, "I shallleave for the North to-morrow morning. See that my trunk is packed, andeverything in readiness. You are to go with me, of course. "

"Yes, Massa, I'll 'tend to it, " replied John, bowing, and retiring with agrin of satisfaction on his face. "Berry glad, " he chuckled to himself, as he hurried away to tell the news in the kitchen, "_berry_ glad datyoung Massa's got tired ob dis dull ole place at last. Wonder if littleMiss Elsie gwine along. "

Elsie rose the next morning feeling very weak, and looking pale and sad:and not caring to avail herself of her father's permission to join thefamily, she took her breakfast in her own room, as usual. She was on herway to the school-room soon afterwards, when, seeing her papa's mancarrying out his trunk, she stopped and inquired in a tone of alarm--

"Why, John! is papa going away?"

"Yes, Miss Elsie; but ain't you gwine along? I s'posed you was. "

"No, John, " she answered faintly, leaning against the wall for support;"but where is papa going?"

"Up North, Miss Elsie; dunno no more 'bout it; better ask Massa Horacehisself, " replied the servant, looking compassionately at her pale face, and eyes brimful of tears. 

Mr. Dinsmore himself appeared at this moment, and Elsie, starting forwardwith clasped hands, and the tears running down her cheeks, lookedpiteously up into his face, exclaiming, "Oh, papa, dear are you goingaway, and without me?"

Without replying, he took her by the hand, and turning back into hisroom again, shut the door, sat down, and lifted her to his knee. Hisface was very pale and sad, too, but withal wore an expression of firmdetermination. 

Elsie laid her head on his shoulder, and sobbed out her tears andentreaties that he would not leave her. 

"It depends entirely upon yourself, Elsie, " he said presently. "I gaveyou warning some time since that I would not keep a rebellious child inmy sight; and while you continue such, either you or I must be banishedfrom home, and I prefer to exile myself rather than you; but a submissivechild I will not leave. It is not yet too late; you have only to yieldto my requirements, and I will stay at home, or delay my journey for afew days, and take you with me. But if you prefer separation from me togiving up your own self-will, you have no one to blame but yourself. "

He waited a moment, then said: "Once more I ask you, Elsie, will you obeyme?"

"Oh, papa, always, if--"

"Hush!" he said sternly; "you _know_ that will not do;" and setting herdown, he rose to go. 

But she clung to him with desperate energy. "Oh, papa, " she sobbed, "whenwill you come back?"

"That depends upon _you_, Elsie, " he said. "Whenever my little daughterwrites to me the words I have so vainly endeavored to induce her tospeak, that _very day_, if possible, I will start for home. "

He laid his hand on the handle of the door as he spoke. 

But clinging to him, and looking up beseechingly into his face, shepleaded, in piteous tones, amid her bitter sobs and tears, "Papa, dear, _dear_ papa, kiss me once before you go; just _once_, papa; perhaps youmay never come back--perhaps I may die. Oh, papa, papa! will you go awaywithout kissing me?--me, your own little daughter, that you used to loveso dearly? Oh, papa, my heart will break!"

His own eyes filled with tears, and he stooped as if to give her thecoveted caress, but hastily drawing back again, said with much of hisaccustomed sternness--

"No, Elsie, I cannot break my word; and if you are determined to breakyour own heart and mine by your stubbornness, on your own head be theconsequences, "

And putting her forcibly aside, he opened the door and went out, while, with a cry of despair, she sank half-fainting upon the floor. 

She was roused ere long by the sound of a carriage driving up to thedoor, and the thought flashed upon her, "He is not gone yet, and I maysee him once more;" and springing to her feet, she ran downstairs, tofind the rest of the family in the hall, taking leave of her father. 

He was just stooping to give Enna a farewell kiss, as his little daughtercame up. He did not seem to notice her, but was turning away, when Ennasaid, "Here is Elsie; aren't you going to kiss _her_ before you go?"

He turned round again, to see those soft, hazel eyes, with theirmournful, pleading gaze, fixed upon his face. He never forgot thatlook; it haunted him all his life. 

He stood for an instant looking down upon her, while that mute, appealingglance still met his, and she ventured to take his hand in both of hersand press it to her lips. 

But he turned resolutely away, saying, in his calm, cold tone, "No! Elsieis a stubborn, disobedient child. I have no caress for her. "

A moan of heart-breaking anguish burst from Elsie's pale and tremblinglips; and covering her face with her hands, she sank down upon thedoor-step, vainly struggling to suppress the bitter, choking sobs thatshook her whole frame. 

But her father was already in the carriage, and hearing it begin to move, she hastily dashed away her tears, and strained her eyes to catch thelast glimpse of it, as it whirled away down the avenue. 

It was quite gone; and she rose up and sadly re-entered the house. 

"I don't pity her at all, " she heard her grandfather say, "for it is allher own fault, and serves her just right. "

But so utterly crushed and heart-broken was she already, that the cruelwords fell quite unheeded upon her ear. 

She went directly to her father's deserted room, and shutting herself in, tottered to the bed, and laying her face on the pillow where his head hadrested a few hours before, clasped her arms around it, and wetted it withher tears, moaning sadly to herself the while, "Oh, _papa_, my own dear, darling papa! I shall never, _never_ see you again! Oh, how can I livewithout you? who is there to love me now? Oh, papa, papa, will you never, never come back to me? Papa, papa, my heart is breaking! I shall die. "

From that time the little Elsie drooped and pined, growing paler andthinner day by day--her step more languid, and her eye more dim--till noone could have recognized in her the bright, rosy, joyous child, full ofhealth and happiness, that she had been six months before. She went aboutthe house like a shadow, scarcely ever speaking or being spoken to. Shemade no complaint, and seldom shed tears now; but seemed to have lost herinterest in everything and to be sinking into a kind of apathy. 

"I wish, " said Mrs. Dinsmore one day, as Elsie passed out into thegarden, "that Horace had sent that child to boarding-school, and stayedat home himself. Your father says he needs him, and as to her--she hasgrown so melancholy of late, it is enough to give one the vapors just tolook at her. "

"I am beginning to feel troubled about her, " replied Adelaide, to whomthe remark had been addressed; "she seems to be losing flesh, andstrength, too, so fast. The other day I went into her room, and foundFanny crying heartily over a dress of Elsie's which she was altering. 'Oh! Miss Adelaide, ' she sobbed, 'the chile gwine die for sartain!' 'Whyno, Fanny, ' I said, 'what makes you think so? she is not sick. ' But sheshook her head, saying, 'Just look a here, Miss Adelaide, ' showing me howmuch she was obliged to take the dress in to make it fit, and then shetold me Elsie had grown so weak that the least exertion overcame her. Ithink I must write to Horace. "

"Oh, nonsense, Adelaide!" said her mother, "I wouldn't trouble himabout it. Children are very apt to grow thin and languid during the hotweather, and I suppose fretting after him makes it affect her rather morethan usual; and just now in the holidays she has nothing else to occupyher thoughts. She will do well enough. "

So Adelaide's fears were relieved, and she delayed writing, thinking thather mother surely knew best. 

Mrs. Travilla sat in her cool, shady parlor, quietly knitting. She wasalone, but the glance she occasionally sent from the window seemed to saythat she was expecting some one. 

"Edward is unusually late to-day, " she murmured half aloud. "But there heis at last, " she added, as her son appeared, riding slowly up the avenue. He dismounted and entered the house, and in another moment had thrownhimself down upon the sofa, by her side. She looked at him uneasily; forwith the quick ear of affection she had noticed that his step lacked itsaccustomed elasticity, and his voice its cheerful, hearty tones. Hisorders to the servant who came to take his horse had been given in alower and more subdued key than usual, and his greeting to herself, though perfectly kind and respectful, was grave and absent in manner; andnow his thoughts seemed far away, and the expression of his countenancewas sad and troubled. 

"What ails you, Edward--is anything wrong, my son?" she asked, laying herhand on his shoulder, and looking into his face with her loving, motherlyeyes. 

"Nothing with _me_ mother, " he answered affectionately; "but, " he added, with a deep-drawn sigh, "I am sorely troubled about my little friend. Icalled at Roselands this afternoon, and learned that Horace Dinsmore hasgone North--to be absent nobody knows how long--leaving her at home. Hehas been gone nearly a week, and the child is--heart-broken. "

"Poor darling! is she really so much distressed about it, Edward?" hismother asked, taking off her spectacles to wipe them, for they hadsuddenly grown dim. "You saw her, I suppose?"

"Yes, for a moment, " he said, struggling to control his feelings. "Mother, you would hardly know her for the child she was six months ago!she is so changed, so thin and pale--but that is not the worst; she seemsto have lost all her life and animation. I felt as though it would be arelief even to see her cry. When I spoke to her she smiled, it is true;but ah! such a sad, hopeless, dreary sort of smile--it was far moretouching than tears, and then she turned away, as if she had scarcelyheard or understood what I said. Mother, you must go to her; she needsjust the sort of comfort you understand so well how to give, but which Iknow nothing about. You will go, mother, will you not?"

"Gladly, Edward! I would go this moment, if I thought I would bepermitted to see her, and could do her any good. "

"I hardly think, " said her son, "that even Mrs. Dinsmore would refuse youthe privilege of a private interview with the child should you requestit, mother; but, no doubt, it would be much pleasanter for all parties ifwe could go when Elsie is at home alone; and fortunately such will be thecase to-morrow, for, as I accidentally learned, the whole family, withthe exception of Elsie and the servants, are expecting to spend the dayabroad. So if it suits you, mother, we will drive over in the morning. "

Mrs. Travilla expressed her readiness to do so; and about the middle ofthe forenoon of the next day their carriage might have been seen turninginto the avenue at Roselands. 

Pomp came out to receive the visitors. "Berry sorry, Massa and Missus, "he said, making his best bow to them as they alighted from the carriage, "dat de family am all from home with the single 'ception of little MissElsie. But if you will be pleased to walk into the drawin'-room, an' restyourselves, I will call for suitable refreshments, and Fanny shall beinstantly despatched to bring de young lady down. "

"No, thank you, Pomp, " replied Mr. Travilla pleasantly, "we are not atall in want of refreshments, and my mother would prefer seeing Miss Elsiein her own room. I will step into the drawing-room, mother, until youcome down again, " he added in an undertone to her. 

Pomp was about to lead the way, but Mrs. Travilla gently put him aside, saying that she would prefer to go alone, and had no need of a guide. 

She found the door of Elsie's room standing wide to admit the air--forthe weather was now growing very warm indeed--and looking in, sheperceived the little girl half reclining upon a sofa, her head resting onthe arm, her hands clasped in her lap, and her sad, dreamy eyes, tearlessand dry, gazing mournfully into vacancy, as though her thoughts were faraway, following the wanderings of her absent father. She seemed to havebeen reading, or trying to read, but the book had fallen from her hand, and lay unheeded on the floor. 

Mrs. Travilla, stood for several minutes gazing with tearful eyes at themelancholy little figure, marking with an aching heart the ravages thatsorrow had already made in the wan child face; then stealing softly in, sat down by her side, and took the little forlorn one into her kindmotherly embrace, laying the weary little head down on her breast. 

Elsie did not speak, but merely raised her eyes for an instant to Mrs. Travilla's face, with the dreary smile her son had spoken of, and thendropped them again with a sigh that was half a sob. 

Mrs. Travilla pressed her quivering lips on the child's forehead, and ascalding tear fell on her cheek. 

Elsie started, and again raising her mournful eyes, said, in a huskywhisper, "Don't, dear Mrs. Travilla _don't_ cry. I never _cry_ now. "

"And why not, darling? Tears are often a blessed relief to an achingheart, and I think it would do you good; these dry eyes need it. "

"No--no--I _cannot_; they are all dried up--and it is well, for theyalways displeased my papa, "

There was a dreary hopelessness in her tone, and in the mournful shake ofher head, that was very touching. 

Mrs. Travilla sighed, and pressed the little form closer to her heart. 

"Elsie, dear, " she said, "you must not give way to despair. Your troubleshave not come by chance; you know, darling, who has sent them; andremember, it is those whom the Lord _loveth_ he chasteneth, and he willnot _always_ chide, neither will he keep his anger forever. "

"Is he angry with me?" she asked fearfully. 

"No, dearest, it is all sent in _love_; we cannot see the reason now, but one day we shall--when we get home to our Father's house, for theneverything will be made plain; it may be, Elsie dear, that you, by yoursteady adherence to the right, are to be made the honored instrument inbringing your father to a saving knowledge of Christ. You would bewilling to suffer a great deal for that, dear child, would you not?even all you are suffering now?"

"Ah, yes, indeed!" she said earnestly, clasping her hands together; "butI am afraid it is _not that_! I am afraid it is because I loved my papa_too_ well, my dear, _dear_ papa--and God is angry with me--and now Ishall never, never see him again, "

She groaned aloud, and covered her face with her hands; and now the tearsfell like rain, and her whole frame shook with convulsive sobs. 

Mrs. Travilla hailed this outburst of grief with deep thankfulness, knowing that it was far better for her than that unnatural apathy, andthat when the first violence of the storm had subsided, the aching heartwould find itself relieved of half its load. 

She gently soothed the little weeper until she began to grow calm again, and the sobs were almost hushed, and the tears fell softly and quietly. 

Then she said, in low, tender tones, "Yes, my darling, you will see himagain; I feel quite sure of it. God is the hearer of prayer, and he willhear yours for your dear father. "

"And will he send my papa hack to me I oh, will he come _soon_? do youthink he will, dear Mrs. Travilla?" she asked eagerly. 

"I don't know, darling; I cannot tell _that_; but one thing we do know, that it is _all_ in God's hands, and he will do just what is best bothfor you and your father. He may see fit to restore you to each other in afew weeks or months, and I hope and trust he will; but however _that_ maybe, darling, remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, 'YourFather knoweth that ye have _need_ of _all_ these things. ' He will notsend you any unnecessary trial, nor allow you to suffer one pang that youdo not need. It may be that he saw you were loving your earthly fathertoo well, and has removed him from you for a time, that thus he may drawyou nearer to himself; but never doubt for one moment, dear one, that itis all done in _love_. 'As many as I _love_, I rebuke and chasten. ' Theyare the dear Saviour's own words. "

When Mrs. Travilla at length rose to go, Elsie clung to her tearfully, entreating that she would stay a little longer. 

"I will, dear child, since you wish it so much, " said the lady, resumingher seat, "and I will come again very soon, if you think there will be noobjection. But, Elsie, dear, can you not come to Ion, and spend the restof your holidays with us? Both Edward and I would be delighted to haveyou, and I think we could make you happier than you are here. "

"I cannot tell you how very much I should like it, dear Mrs. Travilla, but it is quite impossible, " Elsie answered, with a sorrowful shake ofthe head. "I am not allowed to pay or receive visits any more; papaforbade it some time ago. "

"Ah, indeed! I am very sorry, dear, for I fear that cuts me off fromvisiting you, " said Mrs. Travilla, looking much disappointed. "However, "she added more cheerfully, "I will get my son to write to your papa, andperhaps he may give you permission to visit us. "

"No, ma'am, I cannot hope that he will, " replied Elsie sadly; "papa neverbreaks his word or changes his mind. "

"Ah! well, dear child, " said her friend tenderly, "there is one preciousblessing of which no one can deprive you--the presence and love of yourSaviour; and if you have that, no one can make you wholly miserable. Andnow, dear child, I must go, " she added, again clasping the little girl toher heart, and kissing her many times. "God bless and keep you, darling, till we meet again, and we will hope that time will come ere long. "

Mr. Travilla was waiting to hand his mother into the carriage. 

Neither of them spoke until they had fairly left Roselands behind them, but then he turned to her with an anxious, inquiring look, to which shereplied:

"Yes, I found her in just the state you described, poor darling! but Ithink I left her a little happier; or rather, I should say, a little lesswretched than I found her. Edward, Horace Dinsmore does not know what heis doing; that child's heart is breaking. "

He gave an assenting nod, and turned away to hide his emotion. 

"Can you not write to him, Edward, and describe the state she is in, andbeg him, if he will not come home, at least to permit us to take her toIon for a few weeks?" she asked, laying her hand on his arm. 

"I will do so, mother, if you think it best, " Mr. Travilla replied;"but I think I know Horace Dinsmore better than you do, and that such aproceeding would do more harm than good. He is very jealous of anythingthat looks like interference, especially between him and his child, andI fear it would only irritate him, and make him, if possible, still moredetermined. Were I asked to describe his character in a few words, Ishould say he is a man of indomitable will. "

"Well, my son, perhaps you are right, " said his mother, heaving a deepsigh; "and if so, I can see nothing more we can do but pray for thelittle girl. "

Mrs. Travilla was right in thinking that her visit had done Elsie good;it had roused her out of the torpor of grief into which she had sunk; ithad raised her from the depths of despair, and shown her the beacon lightof hope still shining in the distance. 

This last blow had come with such crushing weight that there had seemedto be no room left in her heart for a thought of comfort; but now herkind friend had reminded her of the precious promises, and the tenderlove that were still hers; love far exceeding that of any earthlyparent--love that was able even to bring light out of all this thickdarkness; love which was guiding and controlling all the events of herlife, and would never allow her to suffer one unnecessary pang, butwould remove the trial as soon as its needed work was done; and she wasnow no longer altogether comfortless. 

When Mrs. Travilla had left, she took up her Bible--that precious littlevolume, her never-failing comforter--and in turning over its leaves hereye fell upon these words: "Unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake. "

They sent a thrill of joy to her heart; for was not _she_ suffering for_his_ sake? was it not because she loved him too well to disobey hiscommands, even to please her dearly beloved earthly father, that shewas thus deprived of one privilege, and one comfort after another, andsubjected to trials that wrung her very heart?

Yes, it was because she loved Jesus. She was bearing suffering for hisdear sake, and here she was taught that even to be permitted to _suffer_for him, was a privilege. And she remembered, too, that in another placeit is written: "If we _suffer_, we shall also reign with him. "

Ah! those are tears of joy and thankfulness that are falling now. She hasgrown calm and peaceful, even happy, for the time, in the midst of allher sorrow. 

CHAPTER IX. 

"Heaven oft in mercy smites, e'en when the blowSeverest is. "

JOANNA BAILLIE'S ORRA. 

"The heart knoweth his own bitterness. "

PROV. 14:10. 

But only a few days after Mrs. Travilla's visit, an event occurred, which, by exciting Elsie's sympathy for the sorrows of another, and thuspreventing her from dwelling so constantly upon her own, was of greatbenefit to her. 

Adelaide received a letter bringing tidings of the death of one who hadbeen very dear to her. The blow was very sudden--entirely unexpected--andthe poor girl was overwhelmed with grief, made all the harder to endureby the want of sympathy in her family. 

Her parents had indeed given their consent to the contemplated union, but because the gentleman, though honorable, intelligent, educated andtalented, was neither rich nor high-born, they had never very heartilyapproved of the connection, and were evidently rather relieved thanafflicted by his death. 

Elsie was the only one who really felt deeply for her aunt; and hersilent, unobtrusive sympathy was very grateful. 

The little girl seemed almost to forget her own sorrows, for the time, intrying to relieve those of her bereaved aunt. Elsie knew--and this madeher sympathy far deeper and more heartfelt--that Adelaide had noconsolation in her sore distress, but such miserable comfort as may befound in the things of earth. She had no compassionate Saviour to whomto carry her sorrows, but must bear them all alone; and while Elsie waspermitted to walk in the light of his countenance, and to her ear thereever came the soft whispers of his love--"Fear not: thou art mine"--"_I_have loved thee with an _everlasting_ love"--"_I_ will _never_ leave theenor forsake thee, " to Adelaide all was darkness and silence. 

At first Elsie's sympathy was shown in various little kind offices;sitting for hours beside her aunt's couch, gently fanning her, handingher a drink of cold water, bringing her sweet-scented flowers, andanticipating every want. But at last she ventured to speak. 

"Dear Aunt Adelaide, " she whispered, "I am so sorry for you. I wish Iknew how to comfort you. "

"Oh, Elsie!" sobbed the mourner, "there is no comfort for me, I have lostmy dearest treasure--my all--and no one cares. "

"Dear Aunt Adelaide, " replied the child timidly, "it is true I am only alittle girl, but I do care very much for your grief; and surely your papaand mamma are very sorry for you. "

Adelaide shook her head mournfully. "They are more glad than sorry, " shesaid, bursting into tears. 

"Well, dear aunty, " said Elsie softly, "there is One who does feel foryou, and who is able to comfort you if you will only go to him. One wholoved you so well that he died to save you. "

"No, no, Elsie! not me! He cannot care for me! He cannot love me, or hewould never have taken away my Ernest, " she sobbed. 

"Dear Aunt Adelaide, " said Elsie's low, sweet voice, "we cannot alwaystell what is best for us, and will make us happiest in the end. 

"I remember once when I was a very little child, I was walking with mammyin a part of my guardian's grounds where we seldom went. I was running onbefore her, and I found a bush with some most beautiful red berries; theylooked delicious, and I hastily gathered some, and was just putting themto my mouth when mammy, seeing what I was about, suddenly sprang forward, snatched them out of my hand, threw them on the ground, and tramped uponthem; and then tearing up the bushes treated them in the same manner, while I stood by crying and calling her a naughty, cross mammy, to takemy nice berries from me. "

"Well, " asked Adelaide, as the little girl paused in her narrative, "whatdo you mean by your story? You haven't finished it, but, of course, theberries were poisonous. "

"Yes, " said Elsie; "and mammy was wiser than I, and knew that what I soearnestly coveted would do me great injury. "

"And now for the application, " said Adelaide, interrupting her; "you meanthat just as mammy was wiser than you, and took your treasure from you inkindness, so God is wise and kind in taking mine from me; but ah! Elsie, the analogy will not hold good; for my good, wise, kind Ernest couldnever have harmed me as the poisonous berries would you. No, no, no, healways did me good!" she cried with a passionate burst of grief. 

Elsie waited until she grew calm again, and then said gently, "The Biblesays, dear aunty, that God 'does not willingly afflict nor grieve thechildren of men. ' Perhaps he saw that you loved your friend too well, and would never give your heart to Jesus unless he took him away, andso you could only live with him for a little while in this world. Butnow he has taken him to heaven, I hope--for Lora told me Mr. St. Clairwas a Christian--and if you will only come to Jesus and take him foryour Saviour, you can look forward to spending a happy eternity therewith your friend. 

"So, dear Aunt Adelaide, may we not believe that God, who is infinitelywise, and good, and kind, has sent you this great sorrow in love andcompassion?"

Adelaide's only answer was a gentle pressure of the little hand she held, accompanied by a flood of tears. But after that she seemed to love Elsiebetter than, she ever had before, and to want her always by her side, often asking her to read a chapter in the Bible, a request with which thelittle girl always complied most gladly. 

Adelaide was very silent, burying her thoughts almost entirely in herown bosom; but it was evident that the blessed teachings of the holy bookwere not altogether lost upon her, for the extreme violence of her griefgradually abated, and the expression of her countenance, though stillsad, became gentle and patient. 

And could Elsie thus minister consolation to another, and yet find nolessening of her own burden of sorrow? Assuredly not. 

She could not repeat to her aunt the many sweet and precious promises ofGod's holy word, without having them brought home to her own heart withrenewed power; she could not preach Jesus to another without finding himstill nearer and dearer to her own soul; and though there were yet timeswhen she was almost overwhelmed with grief, she could truly say that the"consolations of God were not small with her. " There was often a weary, weary aching at her heart--such an unutterable longing for her father'slove and favor as would send her weeping to her knees to plead long andearnestly that this trial might be removed; yet she well knew who hadsent it, and was satisfied that it was one of the "_all_ things whichshall work together for good to them that love God, " and she was atlength enabled to say in reference to it: "Thy will, not mine, be done, "and to bear her cross with patient submission. 

But ah! there was many a bitter struggle, first! She had many sad andlonely hours; and there were times when the yearning of the poor littleheart for her father's presence, and her father's love, was almost morethan weak human nature could endure. 

Sometimes she would walk her room, wringing her hands and weepingbitterly. 

"Oh, papa! papa!" she would exclaim, again and again, "how can I bear it?how _can_ I bear it? will you never, never come back? will you never, never love me again?"

And then would come up the memory of his words on that sad, sad day, whenhe left her--"Whenever my little daughter writes to me the words I haveso vainly endeavored to induce her to speak, that very day, if possible, I will start for home"--and the thought that it was in her power torecall him at any time; it was but to write a few words and send themto him, and soon he would be with her--he would take her to his heartagain, and this terrible trial would be over. 

The temptation was fearfully strong; the struggle often long andterrible; and this fierce battle had to be fought again and again, and once the victory had wellnigh been lost. 

She had struggled long; again and again had she resolved that she wouldnot, could not, _dare_ not yield! but vainly she strove to put away thesense of that weary, aching void in her heart--that longing, yearningdesire for her father's love. 

"I cannot bear it! oh, I _cannot_ bear it!" she exclaimed, at length; andseizing a pen, she wrote hastily, and with trembling fingers, while thehot, blinding tears dropped thick and fast upon the paper--"Papa, comeback! oh, come to me, and I will be and do all you ask, all you require. "

But the pen dropped from her fingers, and she bowed her face upon herclasped hands with a cry of bitter anguish. 

"How can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?" The wordsdarted through her mind like a flash of lightning, and then the words ofJesus seemed to come to her ear in solemn tones: "He that loveth fatherand mother more than me, is not worthy of me!"

"What have I done?" she cried. "Has it come to this, that I must choosebetween my father and my Saviour? and _can_ I give up the love of Jesus?oh, never, _never_!--

'Jesus, I my cross have taken_All_ to leave and follow thee. '"

she repeated, half aloud, with clasped hands, and an upward glance of hertearful eyes. Then, tearing into fragments what she had just written, shefell on her knees and prayed earnestly for pardon, and for strength toresist temptation, and to be "faithful unto death, " that she might"receive the crown of life. "

When Elsie rapped at her aunt's dressing-room door the next morning, noanswer was returned, and after waiting a moment, she softly opened it, and entered, expecting to find her aunt sleeping. But no, though extendedupon a couch, Adelaide was not sleeping, but lay with her face buried inthe pillows, sobbing violently. 

Elsie's eyes filled with tears, and softly approaching the mourner, sheattempted to soothe her grief with words of gentle, loving sympathy. 

"Oh! Elsie, you cannot feel for me; it is impossible!" exclaimed her auntpassionately. "_You_ have never known sorrow to be compared to mine! Youhave never loved, and lost--you have known none but mere childishgriefs. "

"'The heart knoweth his own bitterness!'" thought Elsie, silent tearsstealing down her cheeks, and her breast heaving with emotion. 

"Dear Aunt Adelaide, " she said in tremulous tones, "_I_ think I _can_feel for you. Have I not known _some_ sorrow? Is it nothing that I havepined all my life long for a mother's love? nothing to have beenseparated from the dear nurse, who had almost supplied her place? Oh, Aunt Adelaide!" she continued, with a burst of uncontrollable anguish, "is it nothing, _nothing_ to be separated from my beloved father, mydear, only parent, whom I love better than my life--to be refused even aparting caress--to live month after month, and year after year under hisfrown--and to fear that his love may be lost to me forever? Oh! papa, papa, will you never, _never_ love me again?" she cried, sinking on herknees, and covering her face with her hands, while the tears trickledfast between the slender fingers. 

Her aunt's presence was for the moment entirely forgotten, and she wasalone with her bitter grief. 

Adelaide looked at her with a good deal of surprise. She had never beforeseen her give way to such a burst of sorrow, for Elsie was usually calmin the presence of others. 

"Poor child!" she said, drawing the little girl towards her, and gentlypushing back the hair from her forehead, "I should not have said that;you have your own troubles, I know; hard enough to bear, too. I thinkHorace is really cruel, and if I were you, Elsie, I would just give uploving him entirely, and never care for his absence or his displeasure. "

"Oh, Aunt Adelaide! not love my own dear papa? I _must_ love him! I couldnot help it if I would--no, not even if he were going to kill me; andplease don't blame him; he does not mean to be cruel. But oh! if he wouldonly love me!" sobbed the little girl. 

"I am sure he does, Elsie, if that is any comfort; here is a letter fromhim; he speaks of you in the postscript; you may take it to your room andread it, if you like, " replied her aunt, putting a letter into Elsie'shand. "Go now, child, and see if you can extract any comfort from it. "

Elsie replied with a gush of tears and a kiss of thanks, for her littleheart was much too full for speech. Clasping the precious letter tightlyin her hand, she hastened to her own room and locked herself in. Thendrawing it from the envelope, she kissed the well-known characters againand again, dashing away the blinding tears ere she could see to read. 

It was short; merely a letter of condolence to Adelaide, expressing abrother's sympathy in her sorrow; but the postscript sent one ray of joyto the little sad heart of his daughter. 

"Is Elsie well? I cannot altogether banish a feeling of anxiety regardingher health, for she was looking pale and thin when I left home. I trustto _you_, my dear sister, to send _immediately_ for a physician, and alsoto write at once should she show any symptoms of disease. Remember she ismy _only_ and darling child--very near and dear to me still, in spite ofthe sad estrangement between us. "

"Ah! then papa has not forgotten me! he does love me still--he calls mehis darling child, " murmured the little girl, dropping her tears upon thepaper. "Oh, how glad, how glad I am! surely he will come back to me someday;" and she felt that she would be very willing to be sick if thatwould hasten his return. 

CHAPTER X. 

"In this wild world the fondest and the bestAre the most tried, most troubled, and distress'd. "

CRABBE. 

It was about a week after this that Elsie's grandfather handed her aletter directed to her in her father's handwriting, and the little girlrushed away to her room with it, her heart beating wildly between hopeand fear. Her hand trembled so that she could scarcely tear it open, andher eyes were so dimmed with tears that it was some moments before shecould read a line. 

It was kind, yes, even affectionate, and in some parts tender. But ah! ithas brought no comfort to the little girl! else why does she finish witha burst of tears and sobs, and sinking upon her knees, hide her face inher hands, crying with a bitter, wailing cry, "Oh, papa! papa! papa!"

He told her of the estate he had purchased, and the improvements he hadbeen making; of a suite of rooms he had had prepared and furnishedexpressly for her, close to his own apartments--and of the pleasant homehe hoped they would have there together, promising to dispense with agoverness and teach her himself, for that he knew she would greatlyprefer. 

He drew a bright picture of the peaceful, happy life they might lead;but finished by telling her that the condition was entire, unconditionalsubmission on her part, and the alternative a boarding-school, at adistance from home and friends. 

He had, on separating her from her nurse, forbidden her to hold anycommunication with her, or even to ride in the direction of the Oaks--ashis estate was called--and Elsie had scrupulously obeyed him; but now hebade her go and see the lovely home and beautiful apartments he hadprepared for her, and judge for herself of the happiness she might enjoythere--loved, and caressed, and taught by him--and then decide. 

"If she were ready to give up her wilfulness, " he wrote, "she mightanswer him immediately; and he would then return and their new homeshould receive them, and their new life begin at once. But if she werestill inclined to be stubborn and rebellious, she must take a month toconsider, ere he would receive her reply. "

Ah! to little Elsie it was a most enchanting picture he had drawn. Tolive in her father's house--his own home and hers--to be his constantand loved companion--to exchange Miss Day's teaching for his--to walk, to ride, to sit with him--in a word, to live in the sunshine of hislove--oh, it would be paradise upon earth!

And then the alternative! Oh, how dreadful seemed to the shrinking, sensitive child, the very thought of being sent away amongst entirestrangers, who could not be expected to care for her, or love her; whowould have no sympathy with her highest hopes and desires, and instead ofassisting her to walk in the narrow way, would strive to turn her feetaside into the paths of worldly conformity and sin: for, alas! she wellknew it was only to the care of such persons her father would be likelyto commit her, wishing, as he did, to root out of her mind what he waspleased to call the "narrow prejudices of her unfortunate earlytraining. " Poor child! she shrank from it in terror and dismay. 

But should she choose that which her poor, hungry heart so yearnedfor--the home with her father--she must pledge herself to take as herrule of faith and practice, _not_ God's holy word, which had hithertobeen her guide-book, but her father's wishes and commands, which she wellknew would often be entirely opposed to its teachings. 

It was indeed a hard choice; but Elsie could not hesitate where the pathof duty was so plain. She seemed to hear a voice saying to her: "This isthe way, walk ye in it. " "We ought to obey God rather than men. "

"Ah!" she murmured, "I _cannot_ do this great wickedness and sin againstGod, for if my earthly father's frown is so dreadful, so _very_ hard tobear, how much worse would be my heavenly Father's? But, oh, thatboarding-school! How can I ever endure its trials and temptations? I amso weak and sinful! Ah! if papa would but spare me this trial--if hewould only let me stay at home--but he will not--for he has _said_ I mustgo, and never breaks his word;" and again her tears fell fast, but shedashed them away and took up her Bible. 

It opened at the fiftieth chapter of Isaiah, and her eye fell uponthese words: "For the Lord God will help me: therefore shall I not beconfounded: therefore have I set my face like a flint, and I know thatI shall not be ashamed. Who is among you that feareth the Lord, thatobeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness and hath nolight? let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God. "

Ah! here was comfort. "The Lord God will help me!" she repeated; andbowing her face over the holy book she gave thanks for the preciouspromise, and earnestly, tearfully pleaded that it might be fulfilledunto her. 

Then rising from her knees, she bathed her eyes and rang for Fanny toprepare her for her ride. It was the usual hour for it, her horse wasalready at the door, and very soon the little girl might have been seengalloping up the road towards the Oaks, quite alone, excepting that Jim, her constant attendant, rode some yards in the rear. 

It was a pleasant summer morning; there had been just rain enough thenight before to cool the air and lay the dust, and everything was lookingfresh and beautiful--and had the little Elsie's heart been as light andfree from care as would have seemed natural to one of her age, she wouldno doubt have enjoyed her ride extremely. It was but a short one, and theplace well known to her, for she had often passed it, though she hadnever yet been in the grounds. 

In a few moments she reached the gate, and Jim having dismounted andopened it for her, she rode leisurely up a broad, gravelled carriage-way, which wound about through the grounds, giving the traveller a number ofbeautiful views ere he reached the house, a large building of dark-graystone, which stood so far back, and was so entirely hidden by trees andshrubbery, as to be quite invisible from the highway. Now the road wasshaded on either hand by large trees, their branches almost meetingoverhead, and anon, an opening in their ranks afforded a glimpse of somecharming little valley, some sequestered nook amongst the hills, somegrassy meadow, or field of golden wheat, or a far-off view of the sea. 

"Oh, how lovely!" murmured the little girl, dropping the reins on herhorse's neck and gazing about her with eyes now sparkling with pleasure, now dimmed with tears; for, alas! these lovely scenes were not for her;at least not now, and it might be, never; and her heart was very sad. 

At length she reached the house. Chloe met her at the door, and claspedher to her bosom with tears of joy and thankfulness. 

"Bless de Lord for his goodness in sendin' my chile back to her ole mammyagain, " she said; "I'se so glad, darlin', so berry glad!"

And as she spoke she drew the little girl into a pleasant room, fitted upwith books and pictures, couches and easy-chairs and tables, with everyconvenience for writing, drawing, etc. 

"Dis am Massa Horace's study, " she said, in answer to the eager, inquiring glance Elsie sent round the room, while she removed her hatand habit, and seated her in one of the softly-cushioned chairs; "an'de next room is your own little sittin' room, an' jes de prettiest everwas seen, your ole mammy tinks; and now dat she's got her chile backagain she'll be as happy as de day am long. "

"Oh, mammy, " sobbed the child, "I am not to stay. "

Chloe's look of delight changed to one of blank dismay. 

"But you are comin' soon, darlin'?" she said inquiringly. "I tink MassaHorace 'tends to be here 'fore long, sartain, kase he's had de wholehouse fixed up so fine; an' I'se sure he never take so much trouble, an'spend such loads ob money fixin' up such pretty rooms for you, ef hedidn't love you dearly, an' 'tend to have you here 'long with himself. "

Elsie shook her head sorrowfully. "No, mammy, he says not unless I giveup my wilfulness, and promise to do exactly as he bids me; and if I willnot do that, I am to be sent away to boarding-school. "

The last words came with a great sob, as she flung herself into Chloe'soutstretched arms, and hid her face on her bosom. 

"Poor darlin'! poor little pet!" murmured the nurse, hugging her tight, while her own tears fell in great drops on the golden curls. "I thoughtyour troubles were all over. I s'posed Massa Horace had found out youwasn't bad after all, an' was comin' right home to live with you in disbeautiful place. But dere, don't, don't you go for to break your littleheart 'bout it, dear; I'se sure de good Lord make um all come right inde end. "

Elsie made no reply, and for a little while they mingled their tears insilence. Then she raised her head, and gently releasing herself fromChloe's embrace, said, "Now, mammy, I must go all about and seeeverything, for that was papa's command. "

Chloe silently led the way through halls, parlors, drawing-room, library, dining, sitting and bed-rooms, servants' apartments, kitchen, pantry, and all; then out into the grounds, visiting in turn vegetableand flower gardens, lawn, hot-houses and grapery; and finally, bringingthe little girl back to her papa's study, she led her from there intohis bed-room and dressing-room, and then to her own apartments, whichshe had reserved to the last. These were three--bed-room, sitting-room, and dressing-room--all beautifully furnished with every comfort andconvenience. 

Elsie had gazed on all with a yearning heart, and eyes constantlyswimming in tears. "Ah! mammy, " she exclaimed more than once, "what alovely, _lovely_ home! how happy we might be here!"

The sight of her father's rooms and her own affected her the most, andthe tears fell fast as she passed slowly from one to another. Her ownlittle sitting-room was the last; and here sinking down in an easy-chair, she gazed about her silently and tearfully. On one side the windowslooked out upon a beautiful flower-garden, while beyond were hills andwoods; on the other, glass doors opened out upon a grassy lawn, shaded bylarge trees, and beyond, far away in the distance, rolled the blue sea;all around her she saw the evidences of a father's thoughtful love; abeautiful piano, a harp, a small work-table, well furnished with everyrequisite; books, drawing materials--everything to give pleasure andemployment; while luxurious couches and easy-chairs invited to rest andrepose. Several rare pictures, too, adorned the walls. 

Elsie was very fond of paintings, and when she had gazed her fill uponthe lovely landscape without, she turned from one of these to anotherwith interest and pleasure; but one was covered, and she was in the actof raising her hand to draw aside the curtain, when her nurse stoppedher, saying, "Not now, darlin', try de piano first. "

She opened the instrument as she spoke, and Elsie, running her fingersover the keys, remarked that it was the sweetest-toned she had everheard. 

Chloe begged her to play, urging her request on the plea that it was sovery long since she had heard her, and she might not have anotheropportunity soon. 

Just at that instant a little bird on a tree near the door poured forthhis joy in a gush of glad melody, and Elsie, again running her fingerslightly over the keys, sang with touching sweetness and pathos--

"Ye banks an' braes o' bonny Doon, How can ye look sae bright an' fair?How can you sing, ye little bird, An' I sae weary, full of care?" etc. 

The words seemed to come from her very heart, and her voice, though sweetand clear, was full of tears. 

Chloe sobbed aloud, and Elsie, looking lovingly at her, said softly, "Don't, dear mammy! I will sing a better one;" and she played and sang--

"He doeth all things well. "

Then rising, she closed the instrument, saying, "Now, mammy, let me seethe picture. "

Chloe then drew aside the curtain; and Elsie, with clasped hands andstreaming eyes, stood for many minutes gazing upon a life-sized andspeaking portrait of her father. 

"Papa! papa!" she sobbed, "my own darling, precious papa! Oh! could youbut know how dearly your little Elsie loves you!"

"Don't now, darlin'! don't take on so dreadful! It jes breaks your olemammy's heart to see her chile so 'stressed, " Chloe said, passing her armaround the little girl's waist, and laying her head on her bosom. 

"Oh, mammy, will he ever smile on me again? Shall I ever live with him inthis dear home?" sobbed the poor child. "Oh! it is hard, hard to give itall up--to have papa always displeased with me. Oh, mammy, there is sucha weary aching at my heart--is it _never_ to be satisfied?"

"My poor, poor chile! my poor little pet, I'se _sure_ it'll all comeright by-an'-by, " replied Chloe soothingly, as soon as emotion wouldsuffer her to speak. "You know it is de Lord that sends all our'flictions, an' you must 'member de pretty words you was jes a singin', 'He doeth _all_ things well. ' He says, 'What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know here after. ' De great God can change your father'sheart, and 'cline him to 'spect your principles, and I _do_ blieve hewill do it. "

Elsie sobbed out her dread of the boarding-school, with its lonelinessand its temptations. 

"Now don't you go for to be 'fraid of all dat, darlin', " replied hernurse. "Has you forgotten how it says in de good book, 'Lo, I am with you_always_, even unto the end of the world'? an' if _he_ is with you, whocan hurt you? Jes _nobody_. "

A text came to Elsie's mind: "The eternal God is thy refuge, andunderneath are the everlasting arms!" and lifting her head, she dashedaway her tears. 

"No, " she said, "I will _not_ be afraid; at least I will _try_ not tobe. 'The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lordis the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?' But, oh! mammy, I must go now, and I feel as if I were saying farewell to you andthis sweet home forever; as if I were never to live in these prettyrooms--never to see them again. "

"Hush! hush, darlin'! 'tain't never best to borrow trouble, an' I'se sureyou'll come back one ob dese days, " replied Chloe, forcing herself tospeak cheerfully, though her heart ached as she looked into the soft, hazel eyes, all dimmed with tears, and marked how thin and pale the dearlittle face had grown. 

Elsie was passing around the room again, taking a farewell look at eachpicture and piece of furniture; then she stood a moment gazing out overthe lawn, to the rolling sea beyond. 

She was murmuring something to herself, and Chloe started as her earfaintly caught the words: "In my Father's house are many mansions. "

"Mammy!" said the child, suddenly turning and taking her hand, "lookyonder!" and she pointed with her finger. "Do you see that beautiful, tall tree that casts such a thick shade? I want to be buried right there, where papa can see my grave when he sits in here, and think that I amwith him yet. When I am gone, mammy, you must tell him that I told youthis. It would be so pleasant to be there--it is such a lovely spot, andthe distant murmur of the sea seems like a lullaby to sing the weary oneto rest. " She added, dreamily, "I would like to lie down there now. "

"Why, what you talkin' 'bout, Miss Elsie? My chile musn't say suchtings!" exclaimed Chloe in great alarm. "Your ole mammy 'spects to dielong 'nough 'fore you do. You's berry young, an? 'tain't worth while tobegin talkin' 'bout dyin' yet. "

Elsie smiled sadly. 

"But you know, mammy, " she said, "that death often comes to the youngest. Mamma died young, and so may I. I am afraid it isn't right, but sometimesI am so sad and weary that I cannot help longing very much to die, and goto be with her and with Jesus; for they would always love me, and Ishould never be lonely any more. Oh! mammy, mammy, must we part?--shallI ever see you again?" she cried, throwing herself into her nurse's arms. 

"God bless an' keep you, darlin'!" Chloe said, folding her to her heart;"de good Lord take care ob my precious lamb, an' bring her back to herole mammy again, 'fore long. "

Elsie shut herself into her own room on her return to Roselands, and wasnot seen again that day by any one but her maid, until just at duskAdelaide rapped softly at her door. 

Elsie's voice, in a low, tremulous tone, answered, "Come in, " andAdelaide entered. 

The little girl was just in the act of closing her writing-desk, and heraunt thought she had been weeping, but the light was so uncertain thatshe might have been mistaken. 

"My poor darling!" she said in low, pitiful accents, as, passing her armaround the child's waist, she drew her down to a seat beside herself uponthe sofa. 

Elsie did not speak, but dropping her head upon Adelaide's shoulder, burst into tears. 

"My poor child! don't cry so; better days will come, " said her auntsoothingly, running her fingers through Elsie's soft curls. 

"I know what has been the trial of to-day, " she continued, still usingthe same gentle, caressing tone, "for I, too, had a letter from yourpapa, in which he told me what he had said to you. You have been to seeyour new home. I have seen it several times and think it very lovely, andsome day I hope and expect you and your papa will be very happy there. "

Elsie shook her head sorrowfully. 

"Not _now_, I know, " said Adelaide, "for I have no need to ask what yourdecision has been; but I am hoping and praying that God may work the samechange in your father's views and feelings which has been lately wroughtin mine; and then he will love you all the better for your steadfastdetermination to obey God rather than man. "

"Oh, Aunt Adelaide! will it _ever_ be?" sighed the poor child; "the timeseems so very long! It is so dreadful to live without my papa's love!"

"He does love you, Elsie, and I really think he suffers nearly as muchas you do; but he thinks he is right in what he requires of you, and heis so very determined, and so anxious to make a gay, fashionable womanof you--cure you of those absurd, puritanical notions, as he expressesit--that I fear he will never relent until his heart is changed; but Godis able to do that. "

"Oh, Aunt Adelaide!" said the little girl mournfully, "pray for me, thatI may be enabled to wait patiently until that time shall come, and neverpermitted to indulge rebellious feelings towards papa. "

Adelaide kissed her softly. "Poor child!" she whispered, "it is a hardtrial; but try, dearest, to remember who sends it. "

She was silent a moment; then said, reluctantly, "Elsie, your papa hasentrusted me with a message to you, which I was to deliver after yourvisit to the Oaks, unless you had then come to the resolution to complywith his wishes, or rather, his commands. "

She paused, and Elsie, trembling, and almost holding her breath, askedfearfully, "What is it, Aunt Adelaide?"

"Poor darling!" murmured Adelaide, clasping the little form more closely, and pressing her lips to the fair brow; "I wish I could save you from it. He says that if you continue obdurate, he has quite determined to sendyou to a convent to be educated. "

As Adelaide made this announcement, she pitied the child from the bottomof her heart; for she knew that much of Elsie's reading had been on thesubject of Popery and Papal institutions; that she had pored overhistories of the terrible tortures of the Inquisition and stories ofmartyrs and captive nuns, until she had imbibed an intense horror anddread of everything connected with that form of error and superstition. Yet, knowing all this, Adelaide was hardly prepared for the effect ofher communication. 

"Oh, Aunt Adelaide!" almost shrieked the little girl, throwing her armsaround her aunt's neck, and clinging to her, as if in mortal terror, "Save me! save me! Oh! tell papa I would rather he would kill me at once, than send me to such a place. "

And she wept and sobbed, and wrung her hands in such grief and terror, that Adelaide grew absolutely frightened. 

"They will not dare to hurt you, Elsie, " she hastened to say. 

"Oh, they will! they will!--they will try to make me go to mass, andpray to the Virgin, and bow to the crucifixes; and when I refuse, theywill put me in a dungeon and torture me. "

"Oh, no, child, " replied Adelaide soothingly, "they will not _dare_ to doso to _you_, because you will not be a nun, but only a boarder, and yourpapa would be sure to find it all out. "

"No, no!" sobbed the little girl, "they will hide me from papa when hecomes, and tell him that I want to take the veil, and refuse to see him;or else they will say that I am dead and buried. Oh, Aunt Adelaide, beghim not to put me there! I shall go crazy! I feel as if I were goingcrazy now!" and she put her hand to her head. 

"Poor, poor child!" said Adelaide, weeping. "I wish it was in my power tohelp you. I would once have advised you to submit to all your fatherrequires. I cannot do that now, but I will return some of your lessons tome. It is God, my poor darling, who sends you this trial, and he willgive you strength according to your day. _He_ will be with you, whereveryou are, even should it be in a convent; for you know he says: '_I_ will_never_ leave thee, nor forsake thee;' and 'not a hair of your head shallfall to the ground without your Father. '"

"Yes, I know! I know!" Elsie answered, again pressing her hands to herhead; "but I cannot think, and everything seems so dreadful. "

Adelaide was much alarmed, for Elsie looked quite wild for a moment; butafter staying with her for a considerable time, saying all she could tosoothe and comfort her--reminding her that it would be some weeks ere theplan could be carried out, and that in that time something might occur tochange her father's mind, she left her, though still in deep distress, apparently calm and composed. 

CHAPTER XI. 

"In vain she seeks to close her weary eyes, Those eyes still swim incessantly in tears--Hope in her cheerless bosom fading dies, Distracted by a thousand cruel fears, While banish'd from his love forever she appears. "

MRS. TIGHE'S PSYCHE. 

When thus alone the little Elsie fell upon her knees, weeping andsobbing. "Oh!" she groaned, "I cannot, _cannot_ bear it!"

Then she thought of the agony in the garden, and that bitter cry, "Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me!" followed by thesubmissive prayer, "If this cup may not pass from me except I drink it, thy will, not mine be done. "

She opened her Bible and read of his sufferings, so meekly and patientlyborne, without a single murmur or complaint; borne by One who was freefrom all stain of sin; born not for himself, but for others; sufferingsto which her own were not for a moment to be compared; and then sheprayed that she might bear the image of Jesus; that like him she might beenabled to yield a perfect submission to her heavenly Father's will, andto endure with patience and meekness whatever trial he might see fit toappoint her. 

Elsie was far from well, and for many long hours after she had soughther pillow she lay tossing restlessly from side to side in mental andphysical pain, her temples throbbing, and her heart aching with itsintense longing for the love that now seemed farther from her than ever. And thought--troubled, anxious, distracting thought--was busy in herbrain; all the stories of martyrs and captive nuns which she had everread--all the descriptions of the horrible tortures inflicted by Romeupon her wretched victims, came vividly to her recollection, and when atlength she fell asleep, it was but to wake again, trembling with frightfrom a dream that she was in the dungeons of the Inquisition. 

Then again she slept, but only to dream of new horrors which seemedterribly real even when she awoke; and thus, between sleeping and waking, the hours dragged slowly along, until at last the day dawned, after whathad seemed to the little girl the longest night she had ever known. 

Her maid came in at the usual hour, and was surprised and alarmed to findher young mistress still in bed, with cheeks burning and eyes sparklingwith fever, and talking in a wild, incoherent manner. 

Rushing out of the room, Fanny hastened in search of Miss Adelaide, who, she had long since discovered, was the only one of the family that caredfor Elsie; and in a few moments the young aunt was standing at thebedside, looking with tearful eyes at the little sufferer. 

"Oh, Miss Adelaide!" whispered the girl, "I tink she's _berry_ sick;shan't we send for de doctah?"

"Yes, tell Jim to go for him _immediately_, and to stop on his way backand tell Aunt Chloe that she is wanted here just as soon as she canpossibly come, " replied Adelaide quickly, and then she set herself towork to make the child as comfortable as possible, remaining beside heruntil Chloe came to take her place, which was in less than an hour aftershe had received the summons, and just as the breakfast-bell rang atRoselands. 

"So Elsie has taken a fever, and there is no knowing what it is, orwhether it is contagious or not, " remarked Mrs. Dinsmore. "It is reallyfortunate that we were just going away for our summer trip. I shall takeall the children now, and we will start this very day; what a good thingit is that Elsie has kept her room so constantly of late! Can you packin time for the afternoon train, Adelaide?"

"I shall not go now, mamma, " replied Adelaide quietly. 

"Why not?" asked her mother in a tone of surprise. 

"Because I prefer to stay with Elsie. "

"What absurd folly!" exclaimed Mrs. Dinsmore. "Aunt Chloe will doeverything that is necessary, and you don't know to what infection youmay be exposing yourself. "

"I don't think there is any danger, mamma; and if Elsie should be veryill Aunt Chloe will need assistance; and I am not willing to leaveHorace's child to the care of servants. Elsie has been a great comfortto me in my sorrow, " she added, with tears in her eyes, "and I will notforsake her now; and you know, mamma, it is no self-denial, for I haveno heart for gayety. I would _much_ rather stay. "

"Certainly; stay if you like, " answered her father, speaking for thefirst time. "I do not imagine that Elsie's disease is contagious; she hasdoubtless worried herself sick, and it would not look well to theneighbors for us all to run away and leave the child so ill. Ah! there isthe doctor, and we will have his opinion, " he exclaimed, as through thehalf-open door he caught a glimpse of the family physician descending thestairs. "Ask him in to breakfast, Pomp. Good-morning, doctor! how do youfind your patient?"

"I think her quite a sick child, sir, though of the precise nature of herdisease I am not yet able to form a decided opinion, " replied thephysician, accepting the offered seat at the table. 

"Is it anything contagious?" inquired Mrs. Dinsmore anxiously. 

"I cannot yet say certainly, madam, but I think not. "

"Shall we send for Horace? that is, would you advise it?" asked Mr. Dinsmore hesitatingly. 

"Oh, no, " was the reply; "not until we have had more time to judgewhether she is likely to be very ill; it may prove but a slight attack. "

"I shall write this very day, " was Adelaide's mental resolve, though shesaid nothing. 

Mrs. Dinsmore hurried her preparations, and the middle of the afternoonfound Adelaide and Elsie sole occupants of the house, with the exceptionof the servants. Adelaide watched the carriage as it rolled away, andthen, with feelings of sadness and desolation, and a mind filled withanxious forebodings, returned to her station at Elsie's bedside. 

The child was tossing about, moaning, and talking incoherently, andAdelaide sighed deeply at the thought that this was perhaps but thebeginning of a long and serious illness, while she was painfullyconscious of her own inexperience and want of skill in nursing. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed half aloud, "if I only had some kind, experiencedfriend to advise and assist me, what a blessed relief it would be!"

There was a sound of carriage-wheels on the gravel walk below, andhastily turning to Chloe, she said, "Go down and tell them I must beexcused. I cannot see visitors while my little niece is so very ill. "

Chloe went, but returned almost immediately, followed by Mrs. Travilla. 

With a half-smothered exclamation of delight, Adelaide threw herself intothe kind, motherly arms extended to receive her, and burst into tears. Mrs. Travilla let them have their way for a moment, while she strokedher hair caressingly, and murmured a few soothing words. Then she said, softly, "Edward called at the gate this morning, and learned all aboutit; and I knew you were but young, and would feel lonely and anxious, andI love the dear child as if she were my own, and so I have come to stayand help you nurse her, if you will let me. "

_"Let_ you! dear Mrs. Travilla; I can never repay your kindness. "

Mrs. Travilla only smiled, and pressed the hand she held; and thenquietly laying aside her bonnet and shawl, took up her post at thebedside, with the air of one quite at home, and intending to be useful. 

"It is such an inexpressible relief to see you sitting there, " whisperedAdelaide. "You don't know what a load you have taken off my mind. "

But before Mrs. Travilla could reply, Elsie started up in the bed, witha wild outcry: "Oh, don't, papa! don't send me there! They will kill me!they will torture me! Oh, let me stay at home with you, and I will bevery good. "

Mrs. Travilla spoke soothingly to her, and persuaded her to lie downagain. 

Elsie looked at her quite rationally, and holding out her hand, with afaint smile, said: "Thank you, Mrs. Travilla; you are very kind to cometo see me; I am very sick; my head hurts me so;" and she put her hand upto it, while again her eyes rolled wildly, and she shrieked out, "Oh, Aunt Adelaide! save me! save me! don't let them take me away to thatdreadful place! Must I go now? to-day?" she asked in piteous accents. "Oh! I don't want to go!" and she clung shuddering to her aunt, who wasbending over her, with eyes swimming in tears. 

"No, darling, no, " she said, "no one shall take you away; nobody shallhurt you. " Then in answer to Mrs. Travilla's inquiring look, sheexplained, speaking in an undertone: "He had decided to place her in aconvent, to complete her education. I told her of it last night, " sheadded mournfully, "as he requested, and I very much fear that the frightand terror she suffered on that account have helped to bring on thisattack. "

"Poor, dear, precious lamb!" sighed Chloe, who stood at the foot of thebed, gazing sadly at her nursling, and wiping away tear after tear, asthey chased each other down her sable cheek. "I wish Massa Horace couldsee her now. I'se sure he nebber say such cruel tings no more. "

"He ought surely to be here! You have sent for him, Adelaide?" Mrs. Travilla said inquiringly. "She is very ill, and it is of greatimportance that her mind should be set at rest, if indeed it _can_ bedone at present. "

"I wrote this morning, " Adelaide said, "and I shall write every day untilhe comes. "

Elsie caught the words, and turning with an eager look to her aunt, sheagain spoke quite rationally, "Are you writing to papa, Aunt Adelaide?"she asked. "Oh! _beg_ him to come home soon, _very_ soon; tell him I wantto see him once more. Oh, Aunt Adelaide, he _will_ kiss me when I amdying, won't he? Oh, say you think he will. "

"I am _sure_ of it, darling, " replied Adelaide soothingly, as she bentdown and kissed the little feverish cheek; "but we are not going to letyou die yet. "

"But will you ask papa? will you _beg_ him to come?" pleaded the littlevoice still more eagerly. 

"I will, I _have_, darling, " replied the aunt; "and I doubt not that hewill start for home immediately on receiving my letter. "

Day after day the fever raged in Elsie's veins, and when at length it wassubdued, it left her very weak indeed; but the doctor pronounced her freefrom disease, and said she only needed good nursing and nutritious dietto restore her to health; and Mrs. Travilla and Chloe, who had watchedday and night by her couch with intense anxiety, wept for joy andthankfulness that their precious one was yet spared to them. 

But alas! their hopes faded again, as day after day the little girl layon her bed, weak and languid, making no progress toward recovery, butrather losing strength. 

The doctor shook his head with a disappointed air, and drawing Adelaideaside, said, "I cannot understand it, Miss Dinsmore; has she any mentaltrouble? She seems to me like one who has some weight of care or sorrowpressing upon her, and sapping the very springs of life. She appears tohave no desire to recover; she needs something to rouse her, and reviveher love of life. _Is_ there anything on her mind? If so, it must beremoved, or she will certainly die. "

"She is very anxious to see her father, " said Adelaide, weeping. "Oh, _how_ I wish he would come! I cannot imagine what keeps him. I havewritten again and again. "

"I wish he was here, indeed, " replied the doctor, with a look of greatanxiety. "Miss Adelaide, " he suddenly exclaimed, "if she were ten yearsolder I should say she was dying of a broken heart, but she is so youngthe idea is absurd. "

"You are right, doctor! it is nothing but that. Oh! how I wish Horacewould come!" cried Adelaide, walking up and down the room, and wringingher hands. "Do you notice, doctor, " she asked, stopping before him, "howshe watches the opening of the door, and starts and trembles at everysound? It is killing her, for she is too weak to bear it. Oh! If Horacewould only come, and set her mind at rest! He has been displeased withher, and threatened to send her to a convent, of which she has a greathorror and dread--and she idolizes him; and so his anger and his threatshave had this sad effect upon her, poor child!"

"Write again, Miss Adelaide, and tell him that her _life_ depends uponhis speedy return and a reconciliation with him. If he would not loseher he must at _once_ relieve her of every fear and anxiety, " said thephysician, taking up his hat. "_That_ is the medicine she needs, and the_only_ one that will do her much good. Good-morning. I will be in againat noon. "

And Adelaide, scarcely waiting to see him off, rushed away to her room towrite to her brother exactly what he had told her, beseeching him, if hehad any love for his child, to return immediately. The paper was allblistered with her tears, for they fell so fast it was with difficultyshe could see to write. 

"_She_ has spoken from the first as though it were a settled thing thatthis sickness was to be her last; and now a great, a terrible dread iscoming over me that she is right. Oh, Horace, will you not come andsave her?"

Thus Adelaide closed her note; then sealing and despatching it, shereturned to the bedside of her little niece. 

Elsie lay quietly with her eyes closed, but there was an expression ofpain upon her features. Mrs. Travilla sat beside her, holding one littlehand in hers, and gazing with tearful eyes upon the little wan face shehad learned to love so well. 

Presently those beautiful eyes unclosed, and turned upon her with anexpression of anguish that touched her to the very heart. 

"What is it, darling--are you in pain?" she asked, leaning over her, andspeaking in tones of the tenderest solicitude. 

"Oh! Mrs. Travilla, " moaned the little girl, "my sins--my sins--they areso many--so black. 'Without holiness no man shall see the Lord. ' God saysit; and I--I am _not_ holy--I am _vile_--oh, _so_ vile, so sinful! ShallI ever see his face? how can I dare to venture into his presence!"

She spoke slowly, gaspingly--her voice sometimes sinking almost to awhisper; so that, but for the death-like stillness of the room, her wordswould scarcely have been audible. 

Mrs. Travilla's tears were falling very fast, and it was a moment ere shecould command her voice to reply. 

"My precious, _precious_ child, " she said, "_He_ is able to save to the_uttermost_. 'The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from _all_ sin. ' Hewill wash you in that precious fountain opened for sin, and for alluncleanness. He will clothe you with the robe of his own righteousness, and present you faultless before the throne of God, without spot orwrinkle, or any such thing. _He_ has said it, and shall it not cometo pass, my darling? Yes, dear child, I am confident of this very thing, that he who has begun a good work in you will perform it until the dayof Jesus Christ. "

"Oh, yes, he will, I know he will. Precious Jesus! _my_ Saviour, "murmured the little one, a smile of heavenly peace and joy overspreadingher features; and, closing: her eyes, she seemed to sleep, whileAdelaide, unable longer to control her feelings, stole softly fromthe room, to seek a place where she might weep without restraint. 

An hour later Adelaide sat alone by the bedside, Mrs. Travilla havingfound it necessary to return to Ion for a few hours, while Chloe had gonedown to the kitchen to see to the preparation of some new delicacy withwhich she hoped to tempt Elsie's failing appetite. 

Adelaide had been sitting for some moments gazing sadly at the littlepale, thin face, so fair, so sad, yet so full of meekness andresignation. Her eyes filled as she looked, and thought of allthat they feared. 

"Elsie, darling! precious little one, " she murmured in low, tremuloustones, as she leant over the child in tender solicitude. 

"Dear Aunt Adelaide, how kind you are to me, " said the little girl, opening her eyes and looking up lovingly into her aunt's face. 

There was a sound of carriage-wheels. 

"Is it my papa?" asked Elsie, starting and trembling. 

Adelaide sprang to the window. No, it was only a kind neighbor, come toinquire how the invalid was. 

A look of keen disappointment passed over the expressive countenance ofthe little girl--the white lids drooped over the soft eyes, and largetears stole from beneath the long dark lashes, and rolled silentlydown her cheeks. 

"He will not come in time, " she whispered, as if talking to herself. "Oh, papa, I want to hear you say you forgive all my naughtiness. I want onekiss before I go. Oh, take me in your arms, papa, and press me to yourheart, and say you love me yet!"

Adelaide could bear it no longer; the mournful, pleading tones went toher very heart. "Dear, _dear_ child, " she cried, bending over her withstreaming eyes, "he _does_ love you! I _know_ it. _You_ are the very idolof his heart; and you must not die. Oh, darling, live for his sake, andfor mine. He will soon, be here, and then it will be all right; he willbe so thankful that he has not lost you, that he will never allow you tobe separated from him again. "

"No, oh, no! he said he did not love a rebellious child, " she sobbed; "hesaid he would never kiss me again until I submit; and you know I cannotdo that; and oh, Aunt Adelaide, _he never breaks his word_!"

"Oh, Horace! Horace! will you _never_ come? will you let her die? soyoung, so sweet, so fair!" wept Adelaide, wringing her hands. 

But Elsie was speaking again, and she controlled herself to listen. 

"Aunt Adelaide, " she murmured, in low, feeble tones, "I am too weak tohold a pen; will you write something for me?"

"I will, darling; I will do anything I can for you, " she replied. 

Then turning to the maid, who had just entered the room: "Fanny, " shesaid, "bring Miss Elsie's writing-desk here, and set it close to thebedside. Now you may take that waiter down-stairs, and you need notcome in again until I ring for you. "

Elsie had started and turned her head on the opening of the door, as sheinvariably did, looking longingly, eagerly toward it--then turned awayagain with a sigh of disappointment. 

"Poor papa! poor, dear papa!" she murmured to herself; "he will be solonely without his little daughter. My heart aches for you, my own papa. "

"I am quite ready now, Elsie, dear. What do you wish me to write?" askedher aunt. 

"Aunt Adelaide, " said the little girl, looking earnestly at her, "do youknow how much mamma was worth? how much money I would have if I livedto grow up?"

"No, dear, " she replied, much surprised at the question, for even inhealth Elsie had never seemed to care for riches; "I cannot say exactly, but I know it is a great many thousands. "

"And it will all be papa's when I am gone, I suppose. I am glad of that. But I would like to give some of it away, if I might. I know I have no_right_, because I am so young--papa has told me that several times--butI think he will like to do what I wish with a part of it; don't you thinkso, too, Aunt Adelaide?"

Adelaide nodded assent; she dared not trust herself to speak, for shebegan to comprehend that it was neither more nor less than the last willand testament of her little niece, which she was requesting her to write. 

"Well, then, Aunt Adelaide, " said the feeble little voice, "please writedown that I want my dear papa to support one missionary to the heathenout of my money. Now say that I know he will take care of my poor oldmammy as long as she lives, and I hope that, for his little Elsie's sake, he will be very, _very_ kind to her, and give her everything she wants. And I want him to do something for Mrs. Murray, too. Mamma loved her, andso do I; for she was very kind to me always, and taught me about Jesus;and so I want papa to give her a certain sum every year; enough to keepher quite comfortable, for she is getting old, and I am afraid she isvery poor. "

"I have written all that, Elsie; is there anything more?" asked Adelaide, scarcely able to command her voice. 

"Yes, if you please, " replied the little girl; and she went on toname every member of the family, from her grandfather down--servantsincluded--setting apart some little gift for each; most of them thingsalready in her possession, though some few were to be bought, if herpapa was willing. Even Miss Day was not forgotten, and to her Elsiebequeathed a valuable ring. To her Aunt Adelaide she gave her papa'sminiature, a lock of her own hair, and a small Testament. 

"Are you really willing to part with your papa's picture, Elsie, dear?"asked Adelaide. "I thought you valued it very highly. "

"I cannot take it with me, dear Aunt Adelaide, " was the quiet reply, "andhe will not want it himself, and I believe you love him better than anyone else. Oh, Aunt Adelaide, comfort my poor papa when I am gone, and heis left _all alone_!" she exclaimed, the big tears chasing each otherdown her cheeks. "It is so sad to be alone, with nobody to love you; mypoor, poor papa! I am all he has. "

"You have given nothing to him, Elsie, " said Adelaide, wiping away hertears, and glancing over what she had just written. 

"Yes, there is a little packet in my desk directed to him. Please givehim that, and my dear, precious little Bible. I can't part with it yet, but when I am gone. "

She then mentioned that she had pointed out to her nurse the spot whereshe wished to be buried, and added that she did not want any monument, but just a plain white stone with her name and age, and a text ofScripture. 

"That is all, and thank you very much, dear auntie, " she said, whenAdelaide had finished writing down her directions; "now, please put thepen in my fingers and hold the paper here, and I think I can sign myname. "

She did so quite legibly, although her hand trembled with weakness; andthen, at her request, the paper was folded, sealed, and placed in herdesk, to be given after her death to her father, along with the packet. 

It was evidently a great relief to Elsie to get these things off hermind, yet talking so long had exhausted all her little strength, andAdelaide, much alarmed at the death-like pallor of her countenance, and the sinking of her voice, now insisted that she should lie quiet andtry to sleep. 

Elsie made an effort to obey, but her fever was returning, and she wasgrowing very restless again. 

"I cannot, Aunt Adelaide, " she said at length, "and I want to tell you alittle more to say to papa, for I may not be able again. I am afraid hewill not come until I am gone, and he will be so sorry; my poor, poorpapa! Tell him that I loved him to the very last; that I longed to askhim to forgive me for all the naughty, rebellious feelings I have everhad towards him. Twice, since he has been displeased with me, I haverebelled in my heart--once when he refused to give me Miss Allison'sletter, and again when he sent mammy away; it was only for a few momentseach time; but it was very wicked, and I am very sorry. "

Sobs choked her utterance. 

"Poor darling!" said Adelaide, crying bitterly. "I don't think an angelcould have borne it better, and I know he will reproach himself for hiscruelty to you. "

"Oh, Aunt Adelaide, _don't_ say that; don't _let_ him reproach himself, but say all you can to comfort him. I am his child--he had a right--andhe only wanted to make me good--and I needed it all, or God would nothave permitted it. "

"Oh, Elsie, darling, I _cannot_ give you up! you _must not_ die!" sobbedAdelaide, bending over her, her tears falling fast on Elsie's brightcurls. "It is too hard to see you die so young, and with so much to livefor. "

"It is very _sweet_ to go home so soon, " murmured the soft, low voice ofthe little one, "so sweet to go and live with Jesus, and be free from sinforever!"

Adelaide made no reply, and for a moment her bitter sobbing was the onlysound that broke the stillness of the room. 

"Don't cry so, dear auntie, " Elsie said faintly. "I am very happy--onlyI want to see my father. " She added something incoherently, and Adelaideperceived, with excessive alarm, that her mind was again beginning towander. 

She hastily summoned a servant and despatched a message to the physician, urging him to come immediately, as there was an alarming change in hispatient. 

Never in all her life had Adelaide suffered such anxiety and distress asduring the next half-hour, which she and the faithful Chloe spent by thebedside, watching the restless tossings of the little sufferer, whosefever and delirium seemed to increase every moment. Jim had not been ableto find the doctor, and Mrs. Travilla was staying away longer than shehad intended. 

But at length she came, and, though evidently grieved and concerned atthe change in Elsie, her quiet, collected manner calmed and soothedAdelaide. 

"Oh, Mrs. Travilla, " she whispered, "do you think she will die?"

"We will not give up hope yet, my dear, " replied the old lady, trying tospeak cheerfully; "but my greatest comfort, just at present, is the sureknowledge that she is prepared for any event. No one can doubt that sheis a lamb of the Saviour's fold, and if he is about to gather her intohis bosom--" She paused, overcome by emotion, then added in a tremuloustone, "It will be a sad thing to _us_, no doubt, but to her--dear littleone--a blessed, _blessed_ change. "

"I cannot bear the thought, " sobbed Adelaide, "but I have scarcely anyhope now, because--" and then she told Mrs. Travilla what they had beendoing in her absence. 

"Don't let that discourage you, my dear, " replied her friend soothingly. "I have no faith in presentiments, and while there is life there ishope. "

Dr. Barton, the physician, came in at that moment, looked at his youngpatient, felt her pulse, and shook his head sorrowfully. 

Adelaide watched his face with the deepest anxiety. 

He passed his hand over Elsie's beautiful curls. 

"It seems a sad pity, " he remarked in a low tone to her aunt, "but theywill have to be sacrificed; they must be cut off immediately, and herhead shaved. "

Adelaide shuddered and trembled. "Is there any hope, doctor?" shefaltered almost under her breath. 

"There is _life_ yet, Miss Adelaide, " he said, "and we must use all themeans within our reach; but I wish her father was here. Have you heardnothing yet?"

"No, nothing, nothing!" she answered, in a tone of keen distress; thenhastily left the room to give the necessary orders for carrying out thedoctor's directions. 

"No, no, you must not! Papa will not allow it--he will be very angry--hewill punish me if you cut off my curls!" and Elsie's little hand wasraised in a feeble attempt to push away the remorseless scissors thatwere severing the bright locks from her head. 

"No, darling, he will not be displeased, because it is quite necessary tomake you well. " said Mrs. Travilla in her gentle, soothing tones; "andyour papa would bid us do it, if he were here. "

"No, no, don't cut it off. I _will_ not, I _cannot_ be a nun! Oh, papa, save me! save me!" she shrieked. 

"Dear child, you are safe at home, with none but friends around you. "

It was Mrs. Travilla's gentle voice again, and for a moment the childseemed calmed; but only for a moment; another wild fancy possessed herbrain, and she cried out wildly, "Don't! don't!--take it away! I will notbow down to images! No, no, I will not. " Then, with a bitter, wailingcry, that went to the heart of every one who heard it: "Oh, papa, don'tbe angry! I will be good! Oh, I am all alone, nobody to love me. "

"Elsie, darling, we are all here, and we love you dearly, _dearly_, " saidAdelaide in quivering tones, while her scalding tears fell like rain uponthe little hand she had taken in hers. 

"My papa--I want my papa; but he said he would never kiss me till Isubmit;" the tone was low and plaintive, and the large mournful eyes werefixed upon Adelaide's face. 

Then suddenly her gaze was directed upward, a bright smile overspreadher features, and she exclaimed in joyous accents, "Yes, mamma, yes; Iam coming! I will go with you!"

Adelaide turned away and went weeping from the room, unable to bear anymore. 

"Oh, Horace! Horace, what have you done!" she sobbed, as she walked upand down the hall, wringing her hands. 

The doctor came out, but she was too much absorbed in her grief to noticehim. He went to her, however, and took her hand. 

"Miss Adelaide, " he said kindly, "it is true your little niece is veryill, but we will not give up all hope yet. It is possible her father'spresence may do something, and surely he will be here ere long. But tryto calm yourself, my dear young lady, and hope for the best, or I fear Ishall have another patient on my hands. I will stay with the little girlmyself to-night, and I wish I could prevail upon you to lie down and takesome rest, for I see you need it sadly. Have you had your tea?"

Adelaide shook her head. "I _could_ not eat, " she said sadly. 

"You ought at least to _try_; it would do you good, " he urged. 

"No, you will not? well, then, you will lie down; indeed, you must; youwill certainly be ill. "

Adelaide looked the question she dared not ask. 

"No, " he said, "there's no _immediate_ danger, and if there should be anyimportant change I will call you. "

And, reassured on that point, she yielded to his persuasions and went tobed. 

CHAPTER XII. 

 "I drinkSo deep of grief, that he must only think, Not dare to speak, that would express my woe:Small rivers murmur, deep gulfs silent flow. "

MARSTON'S SOPHONIESA. 

It was no want of love for his child that had kept Mr. Dinsmore from atonce obeying Adelaide's summons. He had left the place where she supposedhim to be, and thus it happened that her letters did not reach him nearlyso soon as she had expected. 

But when at length they were put into his hands, and he read of Elsie'sentreaty that he would come to her, and saw by the date how long she hadbeen ill, his distress and alarm were most excessive, and within an hourhe had set out on his return, travelling night and day with the greatestpossible despatch. 

Strangers wondered at the young, fine-looking man, who seemed in suchdesperate haste to reach the end of his journey--sat half the time withhis watch in his hand, and looked so despairingly wretched whenever thetrain stopped for a moment. 

Elsie was indeed, as Adelaide had said, the very idol of his heart;and at times he suffered but little less than she did; but his will wasstronger even than his love, and he had fondly hoped that this separationfrom him would produce the change in her which he so much desired; andhad thus far persuaded himself that he was only using the legitimateauthority of a parent, and therefore acting quite right; and, in fact, with the truest kindness, because, as he reasoned, she would be happierall her life if once relieved from the supposed necessity of conformingto rules so strict and unbending. But suddenly his eyes seemed to havebeen opened to see his conduct in a new light, and he called himself abrute, a monster, a cruel persecutor, and longed to annihilate time andspace, that he might clasp his child in his arms, tell her how dearly heloved her, and assure her that never again would he require her to doaught against her conscience. 

Again and again he took out his sister's letters and read and re-readthem, vainly trying to assure himself that there was no danger; that she_could_ not be so very ill. "She is so young, " he said to himself, "andhas always been healthy, it _cannot_ be that she will die. " He startedand shuddered at the word. "Oh, no! it is impossible!" he mentallyexclaimed. "God is too merciful to send me so terrible an affliction. "

He had not received Adelaide's last, and was therefore quite unpreparedto find his child so near the borders of the grave. 

It was early on the morning of the day after her fearful relapse, that acarriage drove rapidly up the avenue, and Horace Dinsmore looked from itswindow, half expecting to see again the little graceful figure that hadbeen wont to stand upon the steps of the portico, ready to greet hisarrival with such outgushings of joy and love. 

But, "Pshaw!" he exclaimed to himself, "of course she is not yet able toleave her room; but my return will soon set her up again--the darling! Mypoor little pet!" he added, with a sigh, as memory brought her vividlybefore him as he had last seen her, and recalled her sorrowful, pleadinglooks and words; "my poor darling, you shall have all the love andcaresses now that your heart can desire. " And he sprang out, glancing upat the windows above, to see if she were not looking down at him; but shewas not to be seen; yet it did not strike him as strange that all theshutters were closed, since it was the east side of the house, and a warmsummer's sun was shining full upon them. 

A servant met him at the door, looking grave and sad, but Mr. Dinsmorewaited not to ask any questions, and merely giving the man a nod, sprang up the stairs, and hurried to his daughter's room, all dustyand travel-stained as he was. 

He heard her laugh as he reached the door. "Ah! she must be a great dealbetter; she will soon be quite well again, now that I have come, " hemurmured to himself, with a smile, as he pushed it open. 

But alas! what a sight met his eye. The doctor, Mrs. Travilla, Adelaide, and Chloe, all grouped about the bed, where lay his little daughter, tossing about and raving in the wildest delirium; now shrieking withfear, now laughing an unnatural, hysterical laugh, and so changed thatno one could have recognized her; the little face so thin, the beautifulhair of which he had been so proud all gone, the eyes sunken deep inher head, and their soft light changed to the glare of insanity. Could itbe Elsie, his own beautiful little Elsie? He could scarcely believe it, and a sickening feeling of horror and remorse crept over him. 

No one seemed aware of his entrance, for all eyes were fixed upon thelittle sufferer. But as he drew near the bed, with a heart too full forspeech, Elsie's eye fell upon him, and with a wild shriek of mortalterror, she clung to her aunt, crying out, "Oh, save me! save me! he'scoming to take me away to the Inquisition! Go away! go away!" and shelooked at him with a countenance so full of fear and horror, that thedoctor hastily took him by the arm to lead him away. 

But Mr. Dinsmore resisted. 

"Elsie! my daughter! it is I! your own father, who loves you dearly!" hesaid in tones of the keenest anguish, as he bent over her, and tried totake her hand. But she snatched it away, and clung to her aunt again, hiding her face, and shuddering with fear. 

Mr. Dinsmore groaned aloud, and no longer resisted the physician'sefforts to lead him from the room. "It is the delirium of _fever_, " Dr. Barton said, in answer to the father's agonized look of inquiry; "shewill recover her reason--if she lives. "

The last words were added in a lower, quicker tone. 

Mr. Dinsmore covered his face, and uttered a groan of agony. 

"Doctor, is there _no_ hope?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. 

"Do you wish me to tell you precisely what I think?" asked the physician. 

"I do! I do! let me know the worst!" was the quick, passionate rejoinder. 

"Then, Mr. Dinsmore, I will be frank with you. Had you returned one weekago, I think she _might_ have been saved; _possibly_, even had you beenhere yesterday morning, while she was still in possession of her reason;but now, I see not one ray of hope. I never knew one so low to recover. "

He started, as Mr. Dinsmore raised his face again, so pale, so haggard, so grief-stricken had it become in that one moment. 

"Doctor, " he said in a hollow, broken voice, "save my child, and you maytake all I am worth. I cannot live without her. "

"I will do all I can, " replied the physician in a tone of deepcompassion, "but the Great Physician alone can save her. We must lookto him. "

"Doctor, " said Mr. Dinsmore hoarsely, "if that child dies, I must go tomy grave with the brand of Cain upon me, for I have killed her by mycruelty; and oh! doctor, she is the very light of my eyes--the joy ofmy heart! How _can_ I give her up? Save her, doctor, and you will beentitled to my everlasting gratitude. "

"Surely, my dear sir, you are reproaching yourself unjustly, " said thephysician soothingly, replying to the first part of Mr. Dinsmore'sremark. "I have heard you spoken of as a very fond father, and haveformed the same opinion from my own observation, and your little girl'sevident affection for you. "

"And I _was_, but in _one_ respect. I insisted upon obedience, even whenmy commands came in collision with her conscientious scruples; and shewas firm; she had the spirit of a martyr--and I was very severe in myefforts to subdue what I called wilfulness and obstinacy, " said thedistracted father in a voice often, scarcely audible from emotion. "Ithought I was right, but now I see that I was fearfully wrong. "

"There is _life_ yet, Mr. Dinsmore, " remarked the doctor compassionately;"and though human skill can do no more, he who raised the dead child ofthe ruler of the synagogue, and restored the son of the widow of Nain toher arms, can give back your child to your embrace; let me entreat you togo to _him_, my dear sir. And now I must return to my patient. I fear itwill be necessary for you to keep out of sight until there is somechange, as your presence seems to excite her so much. But do not let thatdistress you, " he added kindly, as he noticed an expression of thekeenest anguish sweep over Mr. Dinsmore's features; "it is a common thingin such cases for them to turn away from the very one they love best whenin health. "

Mr. Dinsmore replied only by a convulsive grasp of the friendly handheld out to him, and hurrying away to his own apartments, shut himselfup there to give way to his bitter grief and remorse where no human eyecould see him. 

For hours he paced backward and forward, weeping and groaning in suchmental agony as he had never known before. 

His usual fastidious neatness in person and dress was entirely forgotten, and it never once occurred to his recollection that he had beentravelling for several days and nights in succession, through heat anddust, without making any change in his clothing. And he was equallyunconscious that he had passed many hours without tasting any food. 

The breakfast-bell rang, but he paid no heed to the summons. Then John, his faithful servant, knocked at his door, but was refused admittance, and went sorrowfully back to the kitchen with the waiter of temptingviands he had so carefully prepared, hoping to induce his master to eat. 

But Horace Dinsmore could not stay away from his child while she yetlived; and though he might not watch by her bed of suffering, nor claspher little form in his arms, as he longed to do, he must be where hecould hear the sound of that voice, so soon, alas! to be hushed in death. 

He entered the room noiselessly, and took his station in a distantcorner, where she could not possibly see him. 

She was moaning, as if in pain, and the sound went to his very heart. Sinking down upon a seat, he bowed his head upon his hands, and struggledto suppress his emotion, increased tenfold by the words which the nextinstant fell upon his ear, spoken in his little daughter's own sweetvoice. 

"Yes, mamma; yes, " she said, "I am coming! Take me to Jesus. "

Then, in a pitiful, wailing tone, "I'm _all alone_! There's nobody tolove me. Oh, papa, kiss me just once! I will be good; but I must loveJesus best, and obey him always. "

He rose hastily, as if to go to her, but the doctor shook his head, andhe sank into his seat again with a deep groan. 

"Oh, papa!" she shrieked, as if in mortal terror, "don't send me there!they will kill me! Oh, papa, have mercy on your own little daughter!"

It was only by the strongest effort of his will that he could keep hisseat. 

But Adelaide was speaking soothingly to her. 

"Darling, " she said, "your papa loves you; he will not send you away. "

And Elsie answered, in her natural tone, "But I'm going to mamma. DearAunt Adelaide, comfort my poor papa when I am gone. "

Her father started, and trembled between hope and fear. Surely she wastalking rationally now; but ah! those ominous words! Was she indeed aboutto leave him, and go to her mother?

But she was speaking again in trembling, tearful tones: "He wouldn't kissme! he said he never would till I submit; and oh! he never breaks hisword. Oh! papa, papa, will you _never_ love me any more? I love _you_ so_very_ dearly. You'll kiss me when I'm dying, papa dear, won't you?"

Mr. Dinsmore could bear no more, but starting up he would have approachedthe bed, but a warning gesture from the physician prevented him, and hehurried from the room. 

He met Travilla in the hall. 

Neither spoke, but Edward wrung his friend's hand convulsively, thenhastily turned away to hide his emotion, while Mr. Dinsmore hurried tohis room, and locked himself in. 

He did not come down to dinner, and Adelaide, hearing from the anxiousJohn how long he had been without food, began to feel seriously alarmedon his account, and carried up a biscuit and a cup of coffee with herown hands. 

He opened the door at her earnest solicitation, but only shook his headmournfully, saying that he had no desire for food. She urged him, evenwith tears in her eyes, but all in vain; he replied that "he could noteat; it was impossible. "

Adelaide had at first felt inclined to reproach him bitterly for hislong delay in returning home, but he looked so very wretched, so utterlycrushed by the weight of this great sorrow, that she had not the heart tosay one reproachful word, but on the contrary longed to comfort him. 

He begged her to sit down and give him a few moments' conversation. Hetold her why he had been so long in answering her summons, and how hehad travelled night and day since receiving it; and then he questionedher closely about the whole course of Elsie's sickness--every change inher condition, from first to last--all that had been done for her--andall that she had said and done. 

Adelaide told him everything; dwelling particularly on the child'srestless longing for him, her earnest desire to receive his forgivenessand caress before she died, and her entreaties to her to comfort her"dear papa" when she was gone. She told him, too, of her last will andtestament, and of the little package which was, after her death, to begiven to him, along with her dearly loved Bible. 

He was deeply moved during this recital, sometimes sitting with his headbowed down, hiding his face in his hands; at others, rising and pacingthe floor, his breast heaving with emotion, and a groan of anguish everand anon bursting from his overburdened heart, in spite of the mightyeffort he was evidently making to control himself. 

But at last she was done; she had told him all that there was to tell, and for a few moments both sat silent, Adelaide weeping quietly, and hestriving in vain to be calm. 

At length he said, in a husky tone, "Sister Adelaide, I can never thankyou as you deserve for your kindness to her--my precious child. "

"Oh, brother!" replied Adelaide, sobbing, "I owe her a debt of gratitudeI can never pay. She has been all my comfort in my great sorrow; she hastaught me the way to heaven, and now she is going before. " Then, with aburst of uncontrollable grief, she exclaimed: "Oh, Elsie! Elsie! darlingchild! how _can_ I give you up?"

Mr. Dinsmore hid his face, and his whole frame shook with emotion. 

"My punishment is greater than I can bear!" he exclaimed in a voicechoked with grief. "Adelaide, do you not despise and hate me for mycruelty to that angel-child?"

"My poor brother, I am very sorry for you, " she replied, laying her handon his arm, while the tears trembled in her eyes. 

There was a light tap at the door. It was Doctor Barton. "Mr. Dinsmore, "he said, "she is begging so piteously for her papa that, perhaps, itwould be well for you to show yourself again; it is just possible shemay recognize you"

Mr. Dinsmore waited for no second bidding, but following the physicianwith eager haste, was the next moment at the bedside. 

The little girl was moving restlessly about, moaning, "Oh! papa, papa, will you never come?"

"I am here, darling, " he replied in tones of the tenderest affection. "I_have_ come back to my little girl"

She turned her head to look at him. "No, no, " she said, "I want my papa. "

"My darling, do you not know me?" he asked in a voice quivering withemotion. 

"No, no, you shall not! I will never do it--_never_. Oh! make him goaway, " she shrieked, clinging to Mrs. Travilla, and glaring at him with alook of the wildest affright, "he has come to torture me because I won'tpray to the Virgin. "

"It is quite useless, " said the doctor, shaking his head sorrowfully;"she evidently does not know you. "

And the unhappy father turned away and left the room to shut himself upagain alone with his agony and remorse. 

No one saw him again that night, and when the maid came to attend to hisroom in the morning, she was surprised and alarmed to find that the bedhad not been touched. 

Mr. Travilla, who was keeping a sorrowful vigil in the room below, had hebeen questioned, could have told that there had been scarcely a cessationin the sound of the footsteps pacing to and fro over his head. It hadbeen a night of anguish and heart-searching, such as Horace Dinsmore hadnever passed through before. For the first time he saw himself to be whathe really was in the sight of God, a guilty, hell-deserving sinner--lost, ruined, and undone. He had never believed it before, and the prayerswhich he had occasionally offered up had been very much in the spirit ofthe Pharisee's, "God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are!"

He had been blessed with a pious mother, who was early taken from him;yet not too early to have had some influence in forming the character ofher son; and the faint but tender recollection of that mother's prayersand teachings had proved a safeguard to him in many an hour oftemptation, and had kept him from falling into the open vices of someof his less scrupulous companions. But he had been very proud of hismorality and his upright life, unstained by any dishonorable act. He hadalways thought of himself as quite deserving of the prosperity with whichhe had been blessed in the affairs of this world, and just as likely asany one to be happy in the next. 

The news of Elsie's illness had first opened his eyes to the enormityof his conduct in relation to her; and now, as he thought of her purelife, her constant anxiety to do right, her deep humility, her love toJesus, and steadfast adherence to what she believed to be her duty, hermartyr-like spirit in parting with everything she most esteemed andvalued rather than be guilty of what seemed to others but a very slightinfringement of the law of God--as he thought of all this, and contrastedit with his own worldly-mindedness and self-righteousness, his utterneglect of the Saviour, and determined efforts to make his child asworldly as himself, he shrank back appalled at the picture, and wasconstrained to cry out in bitterness of soul: "God be merciful to me, asinner. "

It was the first _real_ prayer he had ever offered. He would fain haveasked for the life of his child, but dared not; feeling that he had soutterly abused his trust that he richly deserved to have it taken fromhim. The very thought was agony; but he dared not ask to have itotherwise. 

He had given up all hope that she would be spared to him, but pleadedearnestly that one lucid interval might be granted her, in which he couldtell her of his deep sorrow on account of his severity toward her, andask her forgiveness. 

He did not go down to breakfast, but Adelaide again brought him somerefreshment, and at length he yielded to her entreaties that he would tryto eat a little. 

She set down the salver, and turned away to hide the tears she could notkeep back. Her heart ached for him. She had never seen such a change in afew hours as had passed over him. He seemed to have grown ten years olderin that one night--he was so pale and haggard--his eyes so sunken in hishead, and there were deep, hard lines of suffering on his brow and aroundhis mouth. 

His meal was soon concluded. 

"Adelaide, how is she?" he asked in a voice which he vainly endeavored tomake calm and steady. 

"Much the same; there seems to be very little change, " replied hissister, wiping away her tears. Then drawing Elsie's little Bible from herpocket, she put it into his hand, saying, "I thought it might help tocomfort you, my poor brother;" and with a fresh burst of tears shehastily left the room and hurried to her own, to spend a few moments inpleading for him that this heavy affliction might be made the means ofleading him to Christ. 

And he--ah! he could not at first trust himself even to look at thelittle volume that had been so constantly in his darling's hands, thatit seemed almost a part of herself. 

He held it in a close, loving grasp, while his averted eyes were dim withunshed tears; but at length, passing his hand over them to clear away theblinding mist, he opened the little book and turned over its pages withtrembling fingers, and a heart swelling with emotion. 

There were many texts marked with her pencil, and many pages blisteredwith her tears. Oh, what a pang that sight sent to her father's heart! Insome parts these evidences of her frequent and sorrowful perusal weremore numerous than in others. Many of the Psalms, the Lamentations ofJeremiah, and the books of Job and Isaiah, in the Old Testament, and St. John's gospel, and the latter part of Hebrews, in the New. 

Hour after hour he sat there reading that little book; at firstinterested in it only because of its association with her--his loved one;but at length beginning to feel the importance of its teachings and theiradaptedness to his needs. As he read, his convictions deepened theinspired declaration that "without holiness no man shall see the Lord, "and the solemn warning, "See that ye refuse not him that speaketh. For ifthey escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall notwe escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven, " filledhim with fear of the wrath to come; for well he remembered how all hislife he had turned away from the Saviour of sinners, despising that bloodof sprinkling, and rejecting all the offers of mercy; and he trembledlest he should not escape. 

Several times during the day and evening he laid the book aside, andstole softly into Elsie's room to learn if there had been any change;but there was none, and at length, quite worn out with fatigue andsorrow--for he had been several nights without any rest--he threw himselfdown on a couch, and fell into a heavy slumber. 

About midnight Adelaide came and woke him to say that Elsie had becomecalm, the fever had left her, and she had fallen asleep. 

"The doctor, " she added, "says this is the crisis, and he begins to havea _little_ hope--very faint, indeed, but still a _hope_--that she mayawake refreshed from this slumber; yet it might be--he is fearful itis--only the precursor of death. "

The last word was almost inaudible. 

Mr. Dinsmore trembled with excitement. 

"I will go to her, " he said in an agitated tone. "She will not know ofmy presence, now that she is sleeping, and I may at least have the sadsatisfaction of looking at her dear little face. "

But Adelaide shook her head. 

"No, no, " she replied, "that will never do; for we know not at whatmoment she may awake, and the agitation she would probably feel at thesight of you would be almost certain to prove fatal. Had you not betterremain here? and I will call you the moment she wakes. "

Mr. Dinsmore acquiesced with a deep sigh, and she went back to her post. 

Hour after hour they sat there--Mrs. Travilla, Adelaide, the doctor, andpoor old Chloe--silent and still as statues, watching that quiet slumber, straining their ears to catch the faint sound of the gentle breathing--asound so low that ever and anon their hearts thrilled with the suddenfear that it had ceased forever; and one or another, rising noiselessly, would bend over the little form in speechless alarm, until again theycaught the low, fitful sound. 

The first faint streak of dawn was beginning in the eastern sky whenthe doctor, who had been bending over her for several minutes, suddenlylaid his finger on her pulse for an instant; then turned to hisfellow-watchers with a look that there was no mistaking. 

There was weeping and wailing then in that room, where death-likestillness had reigned so long. 

"Precious, precious child! dear lamb safely gathered into the Saviour'sfold, " said Mrs. Travilla in quivering tones, as she gently laid her handupon the closed eyes, and straightened the limbs as tenderly as though ithad been a living, breathing form. 

"Oh, Elsie! Elsie! dear, _dear_ little Elsie!" cried Adelaide, flingingherself upon the bed, and pressing her lips to the cold cheek. "I haveonly just learned to know your value, and now you are taken from me. Oh! Elsie, darling, precious one; oh! that I had sooner learned yourworth! that I had done more to make your short life happy!"

Chloe was sobbing at the foot of the bed, "Oh! my child! my child! Oh!now dis ole heart will break for sure!" while the kind-hearted physicianstood wiping his eyes and sighing deeply. 

"Her poor father!" exclaimed Mrs. Travilla at length. 

"Yes, yes, I will go to him, " said Adelaide quickly. "I promised to callhim the moment she waked, and _now_--oh, _now_, I must tell him she willnever wake again. "

"No!" replied Mrs. Travilla, "rather tell him that she has waked inheaven, and is even now singing the song of the redeemed. "

Adelaide turned to Elsie's writing-desk, and taking from it the packetwhich the child had directed to be given to her father as soon as she wasgone, she carried it to him. 

Her low knock was instantly followed by the opening of the door, for hehad been awaiting her coming in torturing suspense. 

She could not look at him, but hastily thrusting the packet into hishand, turned weeping away. 

He well understood the meaning of her silence and her tears, and with agroan of anguish that Adelaide never could forget, he shut and lockedhimself in again; while she hurried to her room to indulge her grief insolitude, leaving Mrs. Travilla and Chloe to attend to the last sadoffices of love to the dear remains of the little departed one. 

The news had quickly spread through the house, and sobs and bitterweeping were heard in every part of it; for Elsie had been dearly lovedby all. 

Chloe was assisting Mrs. Travilla. 

Suddenly the lady paused in her work, saying, in an agitated tone, "Quick! quick! Aunt Chloe, throw open that shutter wide. I thought I felta little warmth about the heart, and--yes! yes! I was not mistaken; there_is_ a slight quivering of the eyelid. Go, Chloe! call the doctor! shemay live yet!"

The doctor was only in the room below, and in a moment was at thebedside, doing all that could be done to fan into a flame that littlespark of life. 

And they were successful. In a few moments those eyes, which they hadthought closed forever to all the beauties of earth, opened again, anda faint, weak voice asked for water. 

The doctor was obliged to banish Chloe from the room, lest the noisymanifestation of her joy should injure her nursling, yet trembling uponthe very verge of the grave; and as he did so, he cautioned her torefrain from yet communicating the glad tidings to any one, lest somesound of their rejoicing might reach the sick-chamber, and disturb thelittle sufferer. 

And then he and the motherly old lady took their stations at the bedsideonce more, watching in perfect silence, and administering every fewmoments a little stimulant, for she was weak as a new-born infant, andonly in this way could they keep the flickering flame of life from dyingout again. 

It was not until more than an hour had passed in this way, and hope beganto grow stronger in their breasts, until it became almost certainty thatElsie would live, that they thought of her father and aunt, so entirelyhad their attention been engrossed by the critical condition of theirlittle patient. 

It was many minutes after Adelaide left him ere Mr. Dinsmore could thinkof anything but the terrible, crushing blow which had fallen upon him, and his agonized feelings found vent in groans of bitter anguish, fit tomelt a heart of stone; but at length he grew somewhat calmer; and as hiseye fell upon the little packet he remembered that it was her dying giftto him, and with a deep sigh he took it up and opened it. 

It contained his wife's miniature--the same that Elsie had always wornsuspended from her neck--one of the child's glossy ringlets, severed fromher head by her own little hands the day before she was taken ill--and aletter, directed in her handwriting to himself. 

He pressed the lock of hair to his lips, then laid it gently down, andopened the letter. 

"Dear, dear papa, " it began, "my heart is very sad to-night! There issuch a weary, aching pain there, that will never be gone till I can laymy head against your breast, and feel your arms folding me tight, andyour kisses on my cheek. Ah! papa, how often I wish you could just lookdown into my heart and see how _full_ of love to you it is! I am alwaysthinking of you, and longing to be with you. You bade me go and see thehome you have prepared, and I have obeyed you. You say, if I will only besubmissive we will live there, and be so very happy together, and Icannot tell you how my heart longs for such a life with you in thatlovely, lovely home; nor how happy I could be there, or _anywhere_ withyou, if you would only let me make God's law the rule of my life; but, myown dear father, if I have found your frown so dreadful, so _hard_ tobear, how much more terrible would my Heavenly Father's be! Oh, papa, _that_ would make me wretched indeed! But oh, I cannot _bear_ to think ofbeing sent away from you amongst strangers! Dear, _dear_ papa, will younot spare your little daughter this trial? I will try to be so very goodand obedient in everything that my conscience will allow. I am so sad, papa, so very sad, as if something terrible was coming, and my head feelsstrangely. I fear I am going to be ill, perhaps to die! Oh, papa, will Inever see you again? I want to ask you to forgive me for all the naughtythoughts and feelings I have ever had towards you. I think I have neverdisobeyed you in _deed_, papa--except the few times you have known of, when I forgot, or thought you bade me break God's law--but twice I haverebelled in my heart. Once when you took Miss Rose's letter from me, andagain when mammy told me you had said she must go away. It was only for alittle while each time, papa, but it was very wicked, and I am very, _very_ sorry; will you please forgive me? and I will try never to indulgesuch wicked feelings again. "

The paper was blistered with Elsie's tears, and _other_ tears werefalling thick and fast upon it now. 

"_She_ to ask forgiveness of me, for a momentary feeling of indignationwhen I so abused my authority, " he groaned. "Oh, my darling! I would giveall I am worth to bring you back for one hour, that I might ask _your_forgiveness, on my knees. "

But there was more of the letter, and he read on:

"Dear papa, " she continued, "should I die, and never see you again inthis world, don't ever feel vexed with yourself, and think that you havebeen too severe with me. I know you have only done what you had a rightto do--for am I not your own? Oh, I _love_ to belong to you, papa! andyou meant it all to make me good; and I needed it, for I was loving you_too_ dearly. I was getting away from my Saviour. But when you put meaway from your arms and separated me from my nurse, I had no one to goto but Jesus, and he drew me closer to him, and I found his love verysweet and precious; it has been all my comfort in my great sorrow. Dearpapa, when I am gone, and you feel sad and lonely, will not _you_ go toJesus, too? I will leave you my dear little Bible, papa. Please readit for Elsie's sake, and God grant it may comfort you as it has yourlittle daughter. And, dear papa, try to forget these sad days of ourestrangement, and remember only the time when your little girl was alwayson your knee, or by your side. Oh! it breaks my heart to think of thosesweet times, and that they will never come again! Oh, for one kiss, onecaress, one word of love from you! for oh, how _I love_ you, my own dear, be loved, precious papa!

"Your little daughter, "ELSIE. "

Mr. Dinsmore dropped his head upon his hands, and groaned aloud. It washis turn now to long, with an _unutterable_ longing, for one caress, oneword of love from those sweet lips that should never speak again. A longtime he sat there, living over again in memory every scene in his life inwhich his child had borne a part, and repenting, oh, so bitterly! ofevery harsh word he had ever spoken to her, of every act of unjustseverity; and, alas! how many and how cruel they seemed to him now!Remorse was eating into his very soul, and he would have given worldsto be able to recall the past. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

"Joy! the lost one is restored!!Sunshine comes to hearth and board. "

MRS. HEMANS. 

 "O remembrance!Why dost thou open all my wounds again?"

LEE'S THEODOSIUS. 

 "I am a fool, To weep at what I am glad of. "

SHAKS. TEMPEST. 

"But these are tears of joy! to see you thus, has filledMy eyes with more delight than they can hold. "

CONGREVE. 

Mr. Dinsmore was roused from the painful reverie into which he hadfallen by a light rap on his dressing-room door; and, supposing it tobe some one sent to consult him concerning the necessary arrangementsfor the funeral, he rose and opened it at once, showing to the doctor, who stood there, such a grief-stricken countenance as caused him tohesitate whether to communicate his glad tidings without some previouspreparation, lest the sudden reaction from such despairing grief to joyso intense should be too great for the father to bear. 

"You wish to speak to me about the--"

Mr. Dinsmore's voice was husky and low, and he paused, unable to finishhis sentence. 

"Come in, doctor, " he said, "it is very kind in you, and--"

"Mr. Dinsmore, " said the doctor, interrupting him, "are you prepared forgood news? can you bear it, my dear sir?"

Mr. Dinsmore caught at the furniture for support, and gasped for breath. 

"What is it?" he asked hoarsely. 

"_Good_ news, I said, " Dr. Barton hastened to say, as he sprang to hisside to prevent him from falling. "Your child yet lives, and though herlife still hangs by a thread, the crisis is past, and I have some hopethat she may recover. "

"Thank God! thank God!" exclaimed the father, sinking into a seat; andburying his face in his hands, he sobbed aloud. 

The doctor went out and closed the door softly; and Horace Dinsmore, falling upon his knees, poured out his thanksgivings, and then and thereconsecrated himself, with all his talents and possessions, to the serviceof that God who had so mercifully spared to him his heart's besttreasure. 

Adelaide's joy and thankfulness were scarcely less than his, when to her, also, the glad and wondrous tidings were communicated. And Mr. Travillaand his mother shared their happiness, as they had shared their sorrow. Yet they all rejoiced with trembling, for that little life was still formany days trembling in the balance; and to the father's anxiety was alsoadded the heavy trial of being excluded from her room. 

The physician had early informed him that it would be risking her lifefor him to enter her presence until she should herself inquire for him, as they could not tell how great might be the agitation it would causeher. And so he waited, day after day, hoping for the summons, butconstantly doomed to disappointment; for even after she had become strongenough to look about her, and ask questions, and to notice her friendswith a gentle smile, and a word of thanks to each, several days passedaway, and she had neither inquired for him nor even once so much asmentioned his name. 

It seemed passing strange, and the thought that perhaps his cruelty hadso estranged her from him that she no longer cared for his presence orhis love, caused him many a bitter pang, and at times rendered him sodesperate that, but for the doctor's repeated warnings, he would haveended this torturing suspense by going to her, and begging to hear fromher own lips whether she had indeed ceased to love him. 

Adelaide tried to comfort and encourage him to wait patiently, butshe, too, thought it very strange, and began to have vague fears thatsomething was wrong with her little niece. 

She wondered that Dr. Barton treated the matter so lightly. 

"But, then, " thought she, "he has no idea how strongly the child wasattached to her father, and therefore her strange silence on the subjectdoes not strike him as it does us. I will ask if I may not venture tomention Horace to her. "

But when she put the question, the doctor shook his head. 

"No, " he said; "better let her broach the subject herself; it will bemuch the safer plan. "

Adelaide reluctantly acquiesced in his decision, for she was growingalmost as impatient as her brother. But fortunately she was not keptmuch longer in suspense. 

The next day Elsie, who had been lying for some time wide awake, butwithout speaking, suddenly asked: "Aunt Adelaide, have you heard fromMiss Allison since she went away?"

"Yes, dear, a number of times, " replied her aunt, much surprised at thequestion; "once since you were taken sick, and she was very sorry to hearof your illness. "

"Dear Miss Rose, how I want to see her, " murmured the little girlmusingly. "Aunt Adelaide, " she asked quickly, "has there been any letterfrom papa since I have been sick?"

"Yes, dear, " said Adelaide, beginning to tremble a little; "one, but itwas written before he heard of your illness. "

"Did he say when he would sail for America, Aunt Adelaide?" she askedeagerly. 

"No, dear, " replied her aunt, becoming still more alarmed, for she fearedthe child was losing her reason. 

"Oh, Aunt Adelaide, do you think he will _ever_ come home? Shall I eversee him? And do you think he will love me?" moaned the little girl. 

"I am sure he _does_ love you, darling, for indeed he mentions you veryaffectionately in his letters, " Adelaide said, bending down to kiss thelittle pale cheek. "Now go to sleep, dear child, " she added, "I am afraidyou have been talking quite too much, for you are very weak yet. "

Elsie was, in fact, quite exhausted, and closing her eyes, fell asleepdirectly. 

Then resigning her place to Chloe, Adelaide stole softly from the room, and seeking her brother, repeated to him all that had just passed betweenElsie and herself. She simply told her story, keeping her doubts andfears confined to her own breast; but she watched him closely to seeif he shared them. 

He listened at first eagerly; then sat with folded arms and head bentdown, so that she could not see his face; then rising up hastily, hepaced the floor to and fro with rapid strides, sighing heavily tohimself. 

"Oh, Adelaide! Adelaide!" he exclaimed, suddenly pausing before her, "are _my_ sins thus to be visited on my innocent child? better death athousand times!" And sinking shuddering into a seat, he covered his facewith his hands, and groaned aloud. 

"Don't be so distressed, dear brother, I am sure it cannot be so bad asyou think, " whispered Adelaide, passing her arm around his neck andkissing him softly. "She looks bright enough, and seems to perfectlyunderstand all that is said to her. "

"Dr. Barton!" announced Pompey, throwing open the door of the parlorwhere they were sitting. 

Mr. Dinsmore rose hastily to greet him. 

"What is the matter? is anything wrong with my patient?" he askedhurriedly, looking from one to the other, and noticing the signs ofunusual emotion in each face. 

"Tell him, Adelaide, " entreated her brother, turning away his head tohide his feelings. 

Adelaide repeated her story, not without showing considerable emotion, though she did not mention the nature of their fears. 

"Don't be alarmed, " said the physician, cheerfully; "she is _not_ losingher mind, as I see you both fear; it is simply a failure of memory forthe time being; she has been fearfully ill, and the mind at presentpartakes of the weakness of the body, but I hope ere long to see themboth grow strong together. 

"Let me see--Miss Allison left, when? a year ago last April, I think yousaid, Miss Adelaide, and this is October. Ah! well, the little girl hasonly lost about a year and a half from her life, and it is altogetherlikely she will recover it; but even supposing she does not, it is nogreat matter after all. "

Mr. Dinsmore looked unspeakably relieved, and Adelaide hardly less so. 

"And this gives you one advantage, Mr. Dinsmore, " continued the doctor, looking smilingly at him; "you can now go to her as soon as Miss Adelaidehas cautiously broken to her the news of your arrival. "

When Elsie waked, Adelaide cautiously communicated to her the tidingsthat her father had landed in America, in safety and health, and hoped tobe with them in a day or two. 

A faint tinge of color came to the little girl's cheek, her eyessparkled, and, clasping her little, thin hands together, she exclaimed, "Oh! can it really be true that I shall see my own dear father? and doyou think he will _love_ me, Aunt Adelaide?"

"Yes, indeed, darling; he _says_ he loves you dearly, and longs to haveyou in his arms. "

Elsie's eyes filled with happy tears. 

"Now you must try to be very calm, darling, and not let the good newshurt you, " said her aunt kindly; "or I am afraid the doctor will sayyou are not well enough to see your papa when, he comes. "

"I will try to be very quiet, " replied the little girl; "but, oh! I_hope_ he will come soon, and that the doctor will let me see him. "

"I shall read to you now, dear, " remarked Adelaide, taking up Elsie'slittle Bible, which had been returned to her some days before; for shehad asked for it almost as soon as she was able to speak. 

Adelaide opened to one of her favorite passages in Isaiah, and read in alow, quiet tone that soon soothed the little one to sleep. 

"Has my papa come?" was her first question on awaking. 

"Do you think you are strong enough to see him?" asked Adelaide, smiling. 

"Oh, yes, Aunt Adelaide; is he here?" she inquired, beginning to tremblewith agitation. 

"I am afraid you are not strong enough yet, " said Adelaide doubtfully;"you are trembling very much. "

"Dear Aunt Adelaide, I will try to be very calm; _do_ let me see him, "she urged beseechingly; "it won't hurt me half so much as to be keptwaiting. "

"Yes, Adelaide, she is right. My precious, precious child! they shallkeep us apart no longer. " And Elsie was gently raised in her father'sarms, and folded to his beating heart. 

She looked up eagerly into his face. 

It was full of the tenderest love and pity. 

"Papa, papa, my _own_ papa, " she murmured, dropping her head upon hisbreast. 

He held her for some moments, caressing her silently; then laid hergently down upon her pillow, and sat by her side with one little handheld fast in his. 

She raised her large, soft eyes, all dim with tears, to his face. 

"Do you love me, my own papa?" she asked in a voice so low and weak hecould scarcely catch the words. 

"Better than life, " he said, his voice trembling with emotion; and heleaned over her, passing his hand caressingly over her face. 

"Does my little daughter love me?" he asked. 

"Oh, so very, _very_ much, " she said, and closing her eyes wearily, shefell asleep again. 

And now Mr. Dinsmore was constantly with his little girl. She couldscarcely bear to have him out of her sight, but clung to him with thefondest affection, which he fully returned; and he never willinglyleft her for an hour. She seemed to have entirely forgotten their firstmeeting, and everything which had occurred since, up to the beginning ofher illness, and always talked to her father as though they had but justbegun their acquaintance; and it was with feelings half pleasurable, halfpainful, that he listened to her. 

It was certainly a relief to have her so unconscious of theirestrangement, and yet such an utter failure of memory distressed himwith fears of permanent and serious injury to her intellect; and thusit was, with mingled hope and dread, that he looked forward to thefulfilment of the doctor's prophecy that her memory would return. 

She was growing stronger, so that she was able to be moved from her bedto a couch during the day; and when she was very weary of lying, herfather would take her in his arms and carry her back and forth, or, seating himself in a large rocking-chair, soothe her to sleep on hisbreast, holding her there for hours, never caring for the aching of hisarms, but really enjoying the consciousness that he was adding to hercomfort by suffering a little himself. 

Mrs. Travilla had some time since found it absolutely necessary to giveher personal attention to her own household, and Adelaide, quite worn outwith nursing, needed rest; and so, with a little help from Chloe, Mr. Dinsmore took the whole care of his little girl, mixing and administeringher medicines with his own hand, giving her her food, soothing her in herhours of restlessness, reading, talking, singing to her--exerting all hispowers for her entertainment, and never weary of waiting upon her. Hewatched by her couch night and day; only now and then snatching a fewhours of sleep on a sofa in her room, while the faithful old nurse tookhis place by her side. 

One day he had been reading to Elsie, while she lay on her sofa. Presently he closed the book, and looking at her, noticed that her eyeswere fixed upon his face with a troubled expression. 

"What is it, dearest?" he asked. 

"Papa, " she said in a doubtful, hesitating way, "it seems as if I hadseen you before; have I, papa?"

"Why, surely, darling, " he answered, trying to laugh, though he trembledinwardly, "I have been with you for nearly two weeks, and you have seenme every day. "

"No, papa; but I mean before. Did I _dream_ that you gave me a doll once?Were you ever vexed with me? Oh, papa, help me to think, " she said in atroubled, anxious tone, rubbing her hand across her forehead as shespoke. 

"Don't try to think, darling, " he replied cheerfully, as he raised her, shook up her pillows, and settled her more comfortably on them. "I am notin the least vexed with you; there is nothing wrong, and I love you very, _very_ dearly. So shut your eyes and try to go to sleep. "

She looked only half satisfied, but closed her eyes as he bade her, andwas soon asleep. She seemed thoughtful and absent all the rest of theday, every now and then fixing the same troubled, questioning look onhim, and it was quite impossible to interest her in any subject for morethan a few moments at a time. 

That night, for the first time, he went to his own room, leaving herentirely to Chloe's care. He had watched by her after she was put in bedfor the night, until she had fallen asleep; but he left her, feeling alittle anxious, for the same troubled look was on her face, as thougheven in sleep memory was reasserting her sway. 

When he entered her room again in the morning, although it was stillearly, he found her already dressed for the day, in a pretty, loosewrapper, and laid upon the sofa. 

"Good-morning, little daughter; you are quite an early bird to-day, for asick one, " he said gayly. 

But as he drew near, he was surprised and pained to see that she wastrembling very much, and that her eyes were red with weeping. 

"What is it, dearest?" he asked, bending over her in tender solicitude;"what ails my little one?"

"Oh, papa, " she said, bursting into tears, "I remember it all now. Areyou angry with me yet? and must I go away from you as soon as--"

But she was unable to finish her sentence. 

He had knelt down by her side, and now raising her gently up, and layingher head against his breast, he kissed her tenderly, saying in a movedtone, in the beautiful words of Ruth, the Moabitess, "The Lord do so tome, and more also, if aught but death part me and thee. " He paused amoment, as if unable to proceed; then, in tones tremulous with emotion, said: "Elsie, my dear, my _darling_ daughter, I have been a very cruelfather to you; I have most shamefully abused my authority; but neveragain will I require you to do anything contrary to the teachings ofGod's word. Will you forgive your father, dearest, for all he has madeyou suffer?"

"Dear papa, don't! oh, _please_ don't say such words to me!" she said;"I cannot bear to hear them. You had a right to do whatever you pleasedwith your own child. "

"No, daughter; not to force you to disobey God, " he answered with deepsolemnity. "I have learned to look upon you now, not as absolutely myown, but as belonging first to him, and only lent to me for a time; andI know that I will have to give an account of my stewardship. "

He paused a moment, then went on: "Elsie, darling, your prayers for mehave been answered; your father has learned to know and love Jesus, andhas consecrated to his service the remainder of his days. And now, dearone, we are travelling the same road at last. "

Her happiness was too deep for words--for anything but tears; and puttingher little arms around his neck, she sobbed out her joy and gratitudeupon his breast. 

Aunt Chloe had gone down to the kitchen, immediately upon Mr. Dinsmore'sentrance, to prepare Elsie's breakfast, and so they were quite alone. Heheld her to his heart for a moment; then kissing away her tears, laid hergently back upon her pillow again, and took up the Bible, which laybeside her. 

"I have learned to love it almost as well as you do, dearest, " he said. "Shall we read together, as you and Miss Rose used to do long ago?"

Her glad look was answer enough; and opening to one of her favoritepassages, he read it in his deep, rich voice, while she lay listening, with a full heart, to the dearly loved words, which sounded sweeterthan ever before. 

He closed the book. He had taken one of her little hands in his ere hebegan to read, and still holding it fast in a close, loving grasp, heknelt down and prayed. 

He thanked God for their spared lives, and especially for the recovery ofhis dear little one, who had so lately been tottering upon the very vergeof the grave--and his voice trembled with emotion as he alluded to thattime of trial--and confessed that it was undeserved mercy to him, for hehad been most unfaithful to his trust. And then he asked for grace andwisdom to guide and guard her, and train her up aright, both by preceptand example. He confessed that he had been all his days a wanderer fromthe right path, and that if left to himself he never would have soughtit; but thanked God that he had been led by the gracious influences ofthe Holy Spirit to turn his feet into that straight and narrow way; andhe prayed that he might be kept from ever turning aside again into thebroad road, and that he and his little girl might now walk hand in handtogether on their journey to the celestial city. 

Elsie's heart swelled with emotion, and glad tears rained down hercheeks, as thus, for the first time, she heard her father's voice inprayer. It was the happiest hour she had ever known. 

"Take me, papa, please, " she begged, holding out her hands to him, as herose from his knees, and drawing his chair close to her couch sat down byher side. 

He took her in his arms, and she laid her head on his breast again, saying, "I am _so_ happy, so _very_ happy! Dear papa, it is worth allthe sickness and everything else that I have suffered. "

He only answered with a kiss. 

"Will you read and pray with me every morning, papa?" she asked, "Yes, darling, " he said, "and when we get into our own home we will callin the servants morning and evening, and have family worship. Shall youlike that?"

"_Very_ much, papa! Oh, how nice it will be! and will we go _soon_ to ourown home, papa?" she asked eagerly. 

"Just as soon as you are well enough to be moved, dearest. But here isAunt Chloe with your breakfast, so now we must stop talking, and let youeat. "

"May I talk a little more now, papa?" she asked, when she had doneeating. 

"Yes, a little, if it is anything of importance, " he answered smilingly. 

"I wanted to say that I think our new home is very, very lovely, and thatI think we shall be _so_ happy there. Dear papa, you were so very kind tofurnish those pretty rooms for me! thank you _very_ much, " she said, pressing his hand to her lips. "I will try to be so good and obedientthat you will never regret having spent so much money, and taken so muchtrouble for me. "

"I know you will, daughter; you have always been a dutiful child, " hesaid tenderly, "and I shall never regret anything that adds to yourhappiness. "

"And will you do all that you said in that letter, papa? will you teachme yourself?" she asked eagerly. 

"If you wish it, my pet; but if you prefer a governess, I will try toget one who will be more kind and patient than Miss Day. One thing iscertain, _she_ shall never teach you again. "

"Oh, no, papa, please teach me yourself. I will try to be very good, andnot give you much trouble, " she said coaxingly. 

"I will, " he said with a smile. "The doctor thinks that in a day or twoyou may be able to take a short ride, and I hope it will not be verylong before we will be in our own home. Now I am going to wrap you up, and carry you to my dressing-room to spend the day; for I know you aretired of this room. "

"How pleasant!" she exclaimed; "how kind you are to think of it, papa! Ifeel as glad as I used to when I was going to take a long ride on mypony. "

He smiled on her a pleased, affectionate smile, and bade Chloe go and seeif the room was in order for them. 

Chloe returned almost immediately to say that all was in readiness; andElsie was then raised in her father's strong arms, and borne quicklythrough the hall and into the dressing-room, where she was laid upon asofa, and propped up with pillows. She looked very comfortable; and veryglad she was to have a little change of scene, after her long confinementto one room. 

Just as she was fairly settled in her new quarters, the breakfast-bellrang, and her father left her in Chloe's care for a few moments, while hewent down to take his meal. 

"I have brought you a visitor, Elsie, " he said when he returned. 

She looked up, and, to her surprise, saw her grandfather standing nearthe door. 

He came forward then, and taking the little, thin hand she held out tohim, he stooped and kissed her cheek. 

"I am sorry to see you looking so ill, my dear, " he said, not without atouch of feeling in his tone--"but I hope you will get well very fastnow. "

"Yes, grandpa, thank you; I am a great deal better than I was, " sheanswered, with a tear in her eye; for it was the first caress she everremembered having received from him, and she felt quite touched. 

"Have the others come, grandpa?" she asked. 

"Yes, my dear, they are all at home now, and I think Lora will be comingto speak to you presently, she has been quite anxious to see you. "

"Don't let her come until afternoon, father? if you please, " said hisson, looking anxiously at his little girl. "Elsie cannot bear much yet, and I see she is beginning to look exhausted already. " And he laid hisfinger on her pulse. 

"I shall caution her on the subject, " replied his father, turning toleave the room. Then to Elsie, "You had better go to sleep now, child!sleep and eat all you can, and get strong fast. "

"Yes, sir, " she said faintly, closing her eyes with a weary look. 

Her father placed her more comfortably on the pillows, smoothed thecover, closed the blinds to shut out the sunlight, and sat down towatch her while she slept. 

It was a long, deep sleep, for she was quite worn out by the excitementof the morning; the dinner-hour had passed, and still she slumbered on, and he began to grow uneasy. He was leaning over her, with his finger onher slender wrist, watching her breathing and counting her pulse, whenshe opened her eyes, and looking up lovingly into his face, said "Dearpapa, I feel so much better. "

"I am very glad, daughter, " he replied; "you have had a long sleep; andnow I will take you on my knee, and Aunt Chloe will bring up yourdinner. "

Elsie's appetite was poor, and her father spared neither trouble norexpense in procuring her every dainty that could be thought of which wasat all suited to her state of health, and he was delighted when he couldtempt her to eat with tolerable heartiness. She seemed to enjoy herdinner, and he watched her with intense pleasure. 

"Can I see Lora now, papa?" she asked, when Chloe had removed the dishes. 

"Yes, " he said. "Aunt Chloe, you may tell Miss Lora that we are ready toreceive her now. "

Lora came in quite gay and full of spirits; but when she caught sight ofElsie, lying so pale and languid in her father's arms, she had hard workto keep from bursting into tears, and could scarcely command her voice tospeak. 

"Dear Lora, I am so glad to see you, " said the little girl, holding outher small, thin hand. 

Lora took it and kissed it, saying, in a tremulous tone, "How ill youlook!"

Elsie held up her face, and Lora stooped and kissed her lips; thenbursting into tears and sobs, she ran out of the room. 

"Oh, Adelaide!" she cried, rushing into her sister's room, "how she ischanged! I should never have known her! Oh! do you think she can everget well?"

"If you had seen her two or three weeks ago, you would be quiteencouraged by her appearance now, " replied her sister. "The doctorconsiders her out of danger now, though he says she must have carefulnursing; and that I assure you she gets from her father. He seems tofeel that he can never do enough for her, and won't let me share thelabor at all, although I would often be very glad to do it. "

"He _ought_ to do all he can for her! he would be a _brute_ if hedidn't, for it was all his doing, her being so ill!" exclaimed Loraindignantly. "No, no; I ought not to say that, " she added, correctingherself immediately, "for we were _all_ unkind to her; I as well as therest. Oh, Adelaide! what a bitter thought that was to me when I heard shewas dying! I never realized before how lovely, and how very differentfrom all the rest of us she was. "

"Yes, poor darling! she has had a hard life amongst us, " repliedAdelaide, sighing, while the tears rose to her eyes. "You can never know, Lora, what an agonizing thought it was at the moment when I believed thatshe had left us forever. I would have given worlds to have been able tolive the last six years over again. But Horace--oh, Lora! I don't believethere was a more wretched being on the face of the earth than he! I wasvery angry with him at first, but when I saw how utterly crushed andheartbroken he was, I couldn't say one word. "

Adelaide was crying now in good earnest, as well as Lora. 

Presently Lora asked for a full account of Elsie's illness, whichAdelaide was beginning to give, when a servant came to say that Elsiewanted to see her; so, with a promise to Lora to finish her story anothertime, she hastened to obey the summons. 

She found the little girl still lying languidly in her father's arms. 

"Dear Aunt Adelaide, " she said, "I wanted to see you; you haven't been into-day to look at your little patient. "

Adelaide smiled, and patted her cheek. 

"Yes, my dear, " she said, "I have been in twice, but found you sleepingboth times, and your father keeping guard over you, like a tiger watchinghis cub. "

"No, no, Aunt Adelaide; papa isn't a bit like a tiger, " said Elsie, passing her small, white hand caressingly over his face. "You mustn'tsay that. "

"I don't know, " replied Adelaide, laughing and shaking her head; "I thinkanybody who should be daring enough to disturb your slumbers would findthere was considerable of the tiger in him. "

Elsie looked up into her father's face as if expecting him to deny thecharge. 

"Never mind, " said he, smiling; "Aunt Adelaide is only trying to tease usa little. "

A servant came in and whispered something to Adelaide. 

"Mr. And Mrs. Travilla, " she said, turning to her brother; "is Elsie ableto see them?"

"Oh, yes, papa, please, " begged the little girl in a coaxing tone. 

"Well, then, for a few moments, I suppose, " he answered ratherdoubtfully; and Adelaide went down and brought them up. 

Elsie was very glad to see them; but seeing that she looked weak andweary they did not stay long, but soon took an affectionate leave of her, expressing the hope that it would not be many weeks before she would beable to pay a visit to Ion. 

Her father promised to take her to spend a day there as soon as she waswell enough, and then they went away. 

Elsie's strength returned very slowly, and she had many trying hours ofweakness and nervous prostration to endure. She was almost always verypatient, but on a few rare occasions, when suffering more than usual, there was a slight peevishness in her tone. Once it was to her father shewas speaking, and the instant she had done so, she looked up at him witheyes brimful of tears, expecting a stern rebuke, or, at the very least, alook of great displeasure. 

But he did not seem to have heard her, and only busied himself in tryingto make her more comfortable; and when she seemed to feel easier again, he kissed her tenderly, saying softly: "My poor little one! papa knowsshe suffers a great deal, and feels very sorry for her. Are you betternow, dearest?"

"Yes, papa, thank you, " she answered, the tears coming into her eyesagain. "I don't know what makes me so cross; you are very good not toscold me. "

"I think my little girl is very patient, " he said, caressing her again;"and if she were not, I couldn't have the heart to _scold_ her after allshe has suffered. Shall I sing to you now?"

"Yes, papa; please sing 'I want to be like Jesus. ' Oh, I _do_ want to belike him! and then I should never even _feel_ impatient. "

He did as she requested, singing in a low, soothing tone that soon lulledher to sleep. He was an indefatigable nurse, never weary, never in theleast impatient, and nothing that skill and kindness could do for thecomfort and recovery of his little daughter was left undone. He carriedher in his arms from room to room; and then, as she grew stronger, downinto the garden. Then he sent for a garden chair, in which he drew herabout the gardens with his own hands; or if he called a servant to do it, he walked by her side, doing all he could to amuse her, and when she wasready to be carried indoors again, no one was allowed to touch her buthimself. At last she was able to take short and easy rides in thecarriage--not more than a quarter of a mile at first, for he was verymuch afraid of trying her strength too far--but gradually they werelengthened, as she seemed able to bear it. 

One day he was unusually eager to get her into the carriage, and afterthey had started, instead of calling her attention to the scenery, as heoften did, he began relating a story which interested her so much thatshe did not notice in what direction they were travelling until thecarriage stopped, the foot-man threw open the door, and her father, breaking off in the middle of a sentence, sprang out hastily, lifted herin his arms, and carried her into the house. 

She did not know where she was until he had laid her on a sofa, and, giving her a rapturous kiss, exclaimed--

"Welcome home, my darling! welcome to your father's house. "

Then she looked up and saw that she was indeed in the dear home he hadprepared for her months before. 

She was too glad to speak a word, or do anything but gaze about herwith eyes brimming over with delight; while her father took off herbonnet and shawl, and setting her on her feet, led her across the room toan easy-chair, where he seated her in state. 

He then threw open a door, and there was another pleasant surprise; forwho but her old friend, Mrs. Murray, should rush in and take her in herarms, kissing her and crying over her. 

"Dear, _dear_ bairn, " she exclaimed, "you are looking pale and ill, butit does my auld heart gude to see your winsome wee face once more. I hopeit will soon grow as round and rosy as ever, now that you've won to yourain home at last. But where, darling, are all your bonny curls?" sheasked suddenly. 

"In the drawer, in my room at grandpa's, " replied the little girl with afaint smile. "They had to be cut off when I was so sick. You were notvexed, papa?" she asked, raising her eyes timidly to his face. 

"No, darling, not _vexed_ certainly, though very sorry indeed that it wasnecessary, " he said in a kind, gentle tone, passing his hand caressinglyover her head. 

"Ah, well, " remarked Mrs. Murray cheerfully, "we winna fret about it;it will soon grow again, and these little, soft rings of hair are verypretty, too. "

"I thought you were in Scotland, Mrs. Murray; when did you come back?"asked the little girl. 

"I came to this place only yesterday, darling; but it is about a weeksince I landed in America. "

"I am so glad to see you, dear Mrs. Murray, " Elsie said, holding fast toher hand, and looking lovingly into her face. "I haven't forgotten anyof the good things you taught me. " Then turning to her father, she said, very earnestly, "Papa, you won't need now to have me grow up for a longwhile, because Mrs. Murray is such an excellent housekeeper. "

He smiled and patted her cheek, saying pleasantly, "No, dear, I shallkeep you a little girl as long as ever I can; and give Mrs. Murray plentyof time to make a good housekeeper of you. "

"At what hour will you have dinner, sir?" asked the old lady, turning toleave the room. 

"At one, if you please, " he said, looking at his watch. "I want Elsie toeat with me, and it must be early, on her account. "

Elsie's little face was quite bright with pleasure. "I am so glad, papa, "she said, "it will be very delightful to dine together in our own house. May I always dine with you?"

"I hope so, " he said, smiling. "I am not fond of eating alone. "

They were in Mr. Dinsmore's study, into which Elsie's own littlesitting-room opened. 

"Do you feel equal to a walk through your rooms, daughter, or shall Icarry you?" he asked, bending over her. 

"I think I will try to walk, papa, if you please, " she said, putting herhand in his. 

He led her slowly forward, but her step seemed tottering, and he passedhis arm around her waist, and supported her to the sofa in her own prettylittle boudoir. 

Although it was now quite late in the fall, the weather was stillwarm and pleasant in that southern clime--flowers were blooming inthe gardens, and doors and windows stood wide open. 

Elsie glanced out of the window, and then around the room. 

"What a lovely place it is, papa!" she said; "and everything in this dearlittle room is so complete, so very pretty. Dear papa, you are very, _very_ kind to me! I will have to be a very good girl to deserve it all. "

"Does it please you, darling? I am very glad, " he said, drawing hercloser to him. "I have tried to think of everything that would be usefulto you, or give you pleasure; but if there is anything else you want, just tell me what it is, and you shall have it. "

"Indeed, papa, " she said, smiling up at him, "I could never have thoughtof half the pretty things that are here already; and I don't believethere is anything else I could possibly want. Ah! papa, how happy I amto-day; so very much happier than when I was here before. Then I thoughtI should never be happy again in this world. There is your picture. Icried very much when I looked at it that day, but it does not make mefeel like crying now, and I am so _glad_ to have it. Thank you a thousandtimes for giving it to me. "

"You are very welcome, darling; you deserve it all, and more than all, "replied her father tenderly. "And now, " he asked, "will you look at theother rooms, or are you too tired?"

"I want to try the piano first, if you please, papa, " she said; "it is solong since I touched one. "

He opened the instrument, and then picked her up and seated her on thestool, saying, "I am afraid you will find yourself hardly equal to theexertion; but you may try. "

She began a little piece which had always been a favorite of his--hestanding beside her, and supporting her with his arm--but it seemed hardwork; the tiny hands trembled so with weakness and he would not let herfinish. 

"You must wait until another day, dearest, " he said, taking her in hisarms; "you are not strong enough yet, and I think I will have to _carry_you through the other rooms, if you are to see them at all. Shall I?"

She assented, laying her head down languidly on his shoulder, and hadvery little to say, as he bore her along through the dressing-room, andinto the bed-room beyond. 

The bed looked very inviting with its snowy drapery, and he laid hergently down upon it, saying, "You are too much fatigued to attemptanything more, and must take a nap now, my pet, to recruit yourselfa little before dinner. "

"Don't leave me, papa! _please_ don't!" she exclaimed, half starting upas he turned toward the door. 

"No, dearest, " he said, "I am only going to get your shawl to lay overyou, and will be back again in a moment. "

He returned almost immediately, but found her already fast asleep. 

"Poor darling! she is quite worn out, " he murmured, as he spread theshawl carefully over her. Then taking a book from his pocket, he sat downby her side, and read until she awoke. 

It was the sound of the dinner-bell which had roused her, and as she satup looking quite bright and cheerful again, he asked if she thought shecould eat some dinner, and would like to be taken to the dining-room. She assented, and he carried her there, seated her in an easy-chair, wheeled it up to the table, and then sat down opposite to her, lookingsupremely happy. 

The servants were about to uncover the dishes, but motioning them towait a moment, Mr. Dinsmore bowed his head over his plate, and asked ablessing on their food. It sent a glow of happiness to Elsie's little, pale face, and she loved and respected her father more than ever. Sheseemed to enjoy her dinner, and he watched her with a pleased look. 

"The change of air has done you good already, I think, " he remarked; "youseem to have a better appetite than you have had since your sickness. "

"Yes, papa, I believe everything tastes good because it is home, " sheanswered, smiling lovingly up at him. 

After dinner he held her on his knee a while, chatting pleasantly withher about their plans for the future; and then, laying her on the sofain her pretty boudoir, he brought a book from his library, and readto her. 

It was a very interesting story he had chosen; and he had been readingfor more than an hour, when, happening to look at her he noticed that hereyes were very bright, and her cheeks flushed, as if with fever. Hesuddenly closed the book, and laid his finger on her pulse. 

"Oh! papa, please go on, " she begged; "I am so much interested. "

"No, daughter, your pulse is very quick, and I fear this book is entirelytoo exciting for you at present--so I shall not read you any more of itto-day, " he said, laying it aside. 

"Oh! papa, I want to hear it so much; do please read a _little_ more, orelse let me have the book myself, " she pleaded in a coaxing tone. 

"My little daughter must not forget old lessons, " he replied verygravely. 

She turned away her head with almost a pout on her lip, and her eyes fullof tears. 

He did not reprove her, though, as he once would have done; but seemingnot to notice her ill-humor, exerted himself to soothe and amuse her, bytalking in a cheerful strain of other matters; and in a very few momentsall traces of it had disappeared, and she was answering him in her usualpleasant tone. 

They had both been silent for several minutes, when she said, "Please, papa, put your head close down to me, I want to say something to you. "

He complied, and putting her little arm around his neck, she said, in avery humble tone, "Dear papa, I was very naughty and cross just now; andI think I have been cross several times lately; and you have been so goodand kind not to reprove or punish me, as I deserved. Please, papa, forgive me; I am very sorry, and I will try to be a better girl. "

He kissed her very tenderly. 

"I do forgive you freely, my little one, " he said, "I know it seemed hardto give up the story just there, but it was for your good, and you musttry always to believe that papa knows best. You are very precious to yourfather's heart, Elsie, but I am not going to _spoil_ my little girlbecause I love her so dearly; nor because I have been so near losingher. "

His voice trembled as he pronounced the last words, and for a momentemotion kept him silent. Then he went on again. 

"I shall never again bid you do violence to your conscience, my daughter, but to all the commands which I _do_ lay upon you I shall still expectand require the same ready and cheerful obedience that I have heretofore. It is my duty to require, and yours to yield it. "

"Yes, papa, I know it is, " she said with a little sigh, "but, it is verydifficult sometimes to keep from wanting to have my own way. "

"Yes, darling, I know it, for I find it so with myself, " replied herfather gently; "but we must, ask God to help us to give up our own wills, and be satisfied to do and have what we _ought_, rather than what wewould _like_. "

"I will, papa, " she whispered, hugging him tighter and tighter. "I am soglad you teach me that. "

They were quite quiet again for a little while. She was running herfingers through his hair. 

"Oh, papa!" she exclaimed, "I see two or three white hairs! I am sosorry! I don't want you to get old. What made these come so soon, papa?"

He did not reply immediately, but, taking her in his arms, held her closeto his heart. It was beating very fast. 

Suddenly she seemed to comprehend. 

"Was it because you were afraid I was going to die, papa?" she asked. 

"Yes, dearest, and because I had reason, to think that my own cruelty hadkilled you. "

The words were almost inaudible, but she heard them. 

"Dear _dear_ papa, how I love you!" she said, putting her arms around hisneck again; "and I am so glad, for your sake, that I did not die. "

He pressed her closer and closer, caressing her silently with a heart toofull for words. 

They sat thus for some time, but were at length interrupted by theentrance of Chloe, who had been left behind at Roselands to attend to thepacking and removal of Elsie's clothes, and all her little possessions. She had finished her work, and her entrance was immediately followed bythat of the men-servants bearing several large trunks and boxes, thecontents of which she proceeded at once to unpack and rearrange in thenew apartments. 

Elsie watched this operation with a good deal of interest, occasionallydirecting where this or that article should be put; but in the midst ofit all was carried off by her father to the tea-table. 

Soon after tea the servants were all called together, and Mr. Dinsmore, after addressing a few words to them on the importance of calling uponGod--the blessings promised to those who did, and the curses pronouncedupon those individuals and families who did not--read a chapter from theBible and offered up a prayer. 

All were solemn and attentive, and all seemed pleased with thearrangement--for Mr. Dinsmore had told them it was to be the regularcustom of the house, morning and evening--but Elsie, Mrs. Murray, andChloe fairly wept for joy and thankfulness. 

Elsie begged for another chapter and prayer in the privacy of her ownrooms, and then Chloe undressed her, and her father carried her to herbed and placed her in it with a loving good-night kiss. And thus endedthe first happy day in her own dear home. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

"Her world was ever joyous; She thought of grief and painAs giants in the olden time, That ne'er would come again. "

MRS. HALE'S ALICE RAY. 

 "Then all was jollity, Feasting, and mirth. "

ROWE'S JANE SHORE. 

It was with a start, and a momentary feeling of perplexity as to herwhereabouts, followed almost instantly by the glad remembrance that shewas indeed at _home_, that the little Elsie awoke the next morning. Shesat up in the bed and gazed about her. Everything had a new, fresh look, and an air of simple elegance, that struck her as very charming. 

A door on her right, communicating with her father's sleeping apartment, was slightly ajar, and she could hear him moving about. 

"Papa!" she called, in her sweet, silvery tones. 

"Good-morning, daughter, " he said, appearing in answer to her summons. "Why, how bright my little girl is looking this morning!"

"Yes, papa, I feel so well and strong I do believe I can walk to thedining-room. Please, may I get up now?"

"Yes; Aunt Chloe may dress you, and call me when you are ready, " hereplied, bending down to give her a kiss. 

Chloe was just coming in from a small adjoining room which had beenappropriated to her use, and exclaimed with delight at her darling'sbright looks. 

"Dress her very nicely, Aunt Chloe, " said Mr. Dinsmore, "for I think itis quite possible we may have visitors to-day; and besides, I want her tolook her best for my own enjoyment, " he added, with a loving look andsmile directed toward his little girl. 

Chloe promised to do her best; and he seemed entirely satisfied with theresult of her labors, as well he might, for Elsie looked very lovely inher simple white dress, and little embroidered pink sacque, which seemedto lend a faint tinge of color to her pale cheeks. She was tired, though, with the dressing, and quite willing to give up her plan of walking tothe dining-room, and let her father carry her. 

After breakfast he sat with her on his knee for a little while, and then, laying her on the sofa and giving her a kiss, he told her he must leaveher with Chloe for an hour or two, as he had some business matters toarrange with her grandfather, after which he would take her to ride. 

"I wish you didn't have to go, papa; but please come back as soon as youcan, " she said coaxingly. 

"I will, darling. And now, Aunt Chloe, I leave her in your care; don'tlet her do anything to tire herself, " he said as he went out. 

Elsie listened until she heard the sound of his horse's hoofs as hegalloped down the avenue, and then turning to her nurse, she exclaimedeagerly, "Now, mammy, please hand me my work-box and that unfinished slipper. "

"You's not fit to sew, darlin' chile, " objected the careful old woman, doing as she was asked, nevertheless. 

"Well, mammy, I want to try, and I'll stop directly if it tires me, "replied the little girl. "Please put me in my rocking-chair. They arefor papa, you see, and I want to get them done before Christmas. "

"Dere's plenty ob time yet 'fore Christmas, darlin', to do dat littlebit, " Chloe said; "'tain't comin' dis four or five weeks; better waittill you git stronger. "

Elsie was not to be dissuaded, however, from making the attempt; buta very few moments' work satisfied her that she was still too weak forsuch an employment; and she readily consented to let Chloe put away herwork-box and lay her on her sofa again, where she spent the rest of thetime in reading her Bible until her father returned. Then came her ride, and then a nap, which took up all the morning until near dinner-time. 

She found Mr. Travilla sitting there, talking with her father, when sheawoke. She was very glad to see him, and to hear that he was going tostay to dinner; and they had quite a little chat together about the newhome and its surroundings. 

After dinner, her Aunt Adelaide, Lora, and Walter called to see them andthe house; but both they and Mr. Travilla went away early--he promisingto bring his mother to see her very soon--and then she was left alonewith her father again. 

"Would you like now to hear the remainder of the story we were readingyesterday, daughter?" he asked. 

"Very much, papa; I have been wanting it all day. "

"Why did you not ask for it, then?" he inquired. 

"Because, papa, I was ashamed, after being so naughty about ityesterday, " she answered, hanging her head and blushing deeply. 

"Well, you shall have it now, daughter, " he said luridly, pressing hislips to the little blushing cheek. "I had forgotten about it, or I wouldhave given you the book to read while I was out this morning. "

A very pleasant, happy life had now begun for our little Elsie: all hertroubles seemed to be over, and she was surrounded by everything thatheart could wish. Her father watched over her with the tenderest loveand care; devoting the greater part of his time to her entertainment andinstruction, sparing neither trouble nor expense to give her pleasure, and though still requiring unhesitating, cheerful obedience to his wishesand commands--yet ruling her not less gently than firmly. He never spoketo her now in his stern tone, and after a while she ceased to expect anddread it. 

Her health improved quite rapidly after their removal to the Oaks, andbefore Christmas came again she was entirely equal to a little stroll inthe grounds, or a short ride on her favorite pony. 

Her cheeks were becoming round and rosy again, and her hair had grownlong enough to curl in soft, glossy little ringlets all over her head, and her father thought her almost prettier than ever. But he was verycareful of her still, scarcely willing to have her a moment out of hissight, lest she should become over-fatigued, or her health be injuredin some way; and he always accompanied her in her walks and rides, everwatching over her with the most unwearied love. As her health andstrength returned he permitted her, in accordance with her own wishes, gradually to resume her studies, and took great pleasure in instructingher; but he was very particular to see that she did not attempt too much, nor sit poring over her books when she needed exercise and recreation, as she was sometimes rather inclined to do. 

"Massa, dere's a gentleman wants to speak to you, " said a servant, looking in at the study door one afternoon a few days before Christmas. 

"Very well, John, show him into the library, and I will be there in amoment, " replied Mr. Dinsmore, putting down his book. 

He glanced at Elsie's little figure, half buried in the cushions of agreat easy-chair near one of the windows, into which she had climbedmore than an hour before, and where she had been sitting ever since, completely lost to all that might be going on about her, in the deepinterest with which she was following the adventures of FitzJames inScott's "Lady of the Lake. "

"Daughter, I am afraid you are reading more to-day than is quite good foryou, " he said, looking at his watch. "You must put up your book very soonnow, and go out for a walk. I shall probably be down in ten or fifteenminutes; but if I am not, you must not wait for me, but take Aunt Chloewith you. "

"Yes, papa, " she replied, looking up from her book for an instant, andthen returning to it again as he left the room. 

She had not the least intention of disobeying, but soon forgot everythingelse in the interest of her story. 

The stranger detained Mr. Dinsmore much longer than he had expected, andthe short winter day was drawing rapidly to a close when he returned tohis study, to find Elsie--much to his surprise and displeasure--preciselywhere he had left her. 

She was not aware of his entrance until he was close beside her; then, looking up with a start, she colored violently. 

He gently took the book from her hand and laid it away, then, lifting herfrom the chair, led her across the room, where he seated himself upon thesofa, and drawing her in between his knees, regarded her with a look ofgrave, sad displeasure. 

"Has my little daughter any idea how long it is since her father bade herput up her book?" he asked in a gently reproving tone. 

Elsie hung her head in silence, and a tear rolled quickly down herburning cheek. 

"It grieves me very much, " he said, "to find that my little girl can beso disobedient! it almost makes me fear that she does not love me verymuch. "

"Oh, papa, don't! oh, don't say that! I can't bear to hear it!" shecried, bursting into an agony of tears and sobs, and hiding her face onhis breast. "I do love you _very_ much, papa, and I can't bear to thinkI've grieved you, " she sobbed. "I know I am very naughty, and deserveto be punished--but I didn't mean to disobey, only the book was sointeresting I didn't know at all how the time went. "

He sighed, but said nothing; only drew her closer to him, pulling his armaround her, and stroking her hair in a gentle, caressing way. 

There was no sound for some moments but Elsie's sobs. 

Then she asked in a half whisper, "Are you going to punish me, papa?"

"I shall take the book from you for a few days; I hope that will bepunishment enough to make you pay better attention to my commands infuture, " he said very gravely. 

"Dear papa how kind you are! I am sure I deserve a great deal worsepunishment than that, " she exclaimed, raising her head and looking upgratefully and lovingly into his face, "but I am very, very sorry formy disobedience; will you please forgive me?"

"I will, daughter, " and he bent down and kissed her lips. 

"Now go, " he said, "and get your cloak and hood. I think we will stillhave time for a little stroll through the grounds before dark. "

Elsie had very little to say during their walk, but moved silently alongby her father's side, with her hand clasped in his; and he, too, seemedunusually abstracted. 

It was quite dusk when they entered the house again, and when the littlegirl returned to the study, after Chloe had taken off her wrappings, she found her father seated in an easy-chair, drawn up on one side ofa bright wood fire that was blazing and crackling on the hearth. 

Elsie dearly loved the twilight hour, and it was one of her greatestpleasures to climb upon her father's knee and sit there talking orsinging, or perhaps, oftener, just laying her head down on his breastand watching the play of the fire-light on the carpet, or the leapingof the flame hither and thither. 

Mr. Dinsmore sat leaning back in his chair, apparently in deep thought, and did not hear Elsie's light step. 

She paused for one instant in the doorway, casting a wistful, longinglook at him, then, with a little sigh, walked softly to the other side ofthe fire-place, and seated herself in her little rocking-chair. 

For several minutes she sat very quietly gazing into the fire, her littleface wearing a very sober, thoughtful look. But she was startled out ofher reverie by the sound of her father's voice. 

"Why am I not to have my little girl on my knee to-night?" he was asking. 

She rose instantly, in a quick, eager way, and ran to him. 

"If you prefer the rocking-chair, stay there, by all means, " he said. 

But she had already climbed to her accustomed seat, and, twining her armsaround his neck, she laid her cheek to his, saying, "No, indeed, papa;you know I don't like the rocking-chair half so well as your knee; soplease let me stay here. "

"Why did you not come at first, then?" he asked in a playful tone. 

"Because I was afraid, papa, " she whispered, "_Afraid_!" he repeated, with an accent of surprise, and looking as if hefelt a little hurt. 

"Yes, papa, " she answered in a low tone, "because I have been so verynaughty this afternoon that I know I don't deserve to come. "

"Did you not hear me say I forgave you?" he asked. 

"Yes, papa. "

"Very well, then, if you are forgiven you are taken back into favor, justas if you had not transgressed; and if you had quite believed me, youwould have come to me at once, and claimed a daughter's privilege, asusual, " he said very gravely. 

"I do believe you, papa; I know you always speak the truth and mean justwhat you say, " she replied in half-tearful tones, "but I know I don'tdeserve a place on your knee to-night. "

"What you _deserve_ is not the question at present; we are talking aboutwhat you can _have_, whether you _deserve_ it or not. 

"Ah!" he continued in a low, musing tone, more as if thinking aloud thanspeaking to her, "just so it is with us all in reference to our HeavenlyFather's forgiveness; when he offers us a full and free pardon of all ouroffences, and adoption into his family, we don't more than half believehim, but still go about groaning under the burden of our sins, and afraidto claim the privileges of children. 

"It hurts and displeases me when my child doubts my word, and yet howoften I dishonor my Father by doubting his. 'He that believeth not God, maketh him a liar. ' 'Without faith it is impossible to please him. '"

He relapsed into silence, and for some moments neither of them spoke. 

He was passing his hand caressingly over her hair, and she resting in hisarms and gazing thoughtfully into the fire. 

"What is my little one thinking of?" he asked at last. 

"I was thinking what a very naughty girl I have been this afternoon, and what a dear, kind papa I have, " she said, looking up lovingly intohis face. "You were so kind, papa, not to punish me as I deserved. I wasafraid you would send me directly to bed, and I should miss my pleasantevening with you. "

"I hope, my darling, " he answered gently, "that you do not think, whenI punish you, it is from anything like a feeling of revenge, or becauseI take pleasure in giving you pain? Not at all. I do it for your owngood--and in this instance, as I thought you were sorry enough for havinggrieved and displeased me to keep you from repeating the offence, Idid not consider any further punishment necessary. But perhaps I wasmistaken, and it was only fear of punishment that caused your tears, "he added, looking keenly at her. 

"Oh, no, papa! no indeed!" she exclaimed earnestly, the tears rushinginto her eyes again; "it is worse than any punishment to know that I havegrieved and displeased you, because I love you so very, _very_ dearly!"and the little arm crept round his neck again, and the soft cheek waslaid to his. 

"I know it, darling, " he said, "I fully believe that you would prefer anyphysical suffering to the pain of my displeasure. "

"Papa, " she said, after a few moments' silence, "I want to tell yousomething. "

"Well, daughter, I am ready to listen, " he answered pleasantly; "what isit?"

"I was looking in my desk to-day, papa, for a letter that I wrote to youthe evening before I was taken sick, and I couldn't find it. Did AuntAdelaide give it to you?"

"Yes, dear, I have it, and one of your curls, " he said, pressing hercloser to him. 

"Yes, papa, _that_ was what I wanted to tell you about. I am afraid I wasvery naughty to cut it off after all you said about it last Christmas;but everything was so strange that night--it seems like a dreadful dreamto me now. I don't think I was quite in my right mind sometimes, and Ithought I was going to die, and something seemed to tell me that youwould want some of my hair when I was gone, and that nobody would saveit for you; and so I cut it off myself. You do not mind about it, papa, dear, do you? You don't think it was _very_ naughty in me?" she askedanxiously. 

"No, darling, no; it was very right and kind, and much more than Ideserved, " he answered with emotion. 

"I am glad you are not angry, papa, " she said in a relieved tone, "and, indeed, I did not mean to be naughty or disobedient. "

John was just bringing in the lights, and Mr. Dinsmore took a note fromhis pocket, saying, "I will read this to you, daughter, as it concernsyou as well as myself. "

It was an invitation from Mrs. Howard--the mother of Elsie's friend, Caroline--to Mr. Dinsmore and his little girl, to come and spend theChristmas holidays with them. 

"Well, my pet, what do you say to it? would you like to go?" he asked, ashe refolded the note and returned it to his pocket. 

"I don't know, papa; it seems as if it would be pleasant, as we are bothinvited; but home is so sweet, and I am so happy just alone with you thatI hardly want to go away; so if you please, papa, I would much ratherjust leave it all to you. "

"Well, then, we will stay quietly at home, " he said, with a gratifiedlook; "and I think it will be much the better plan, for you are notstrong enough yet for gayety, and it would be very little pleasure foryou to be there while unable to join in the sports, and obliged alwaysto keep early hours. 

"But we might have a Christmas dinner at home, and invite a few friendsto help us eat it. Whom would you like to have?"

"Mr. And Mrs. Travilla, and Aunt Adelaide, and Lora, if you please, papa, and anybody else you like, " she replied, looking very much pleased. "Ishould like to have Carry Howard, but of course I can't--as she is goingto have company of her own; and I believe nearly all the little girls Iam acquainted with are to be there. "

"Yes, I suppose so. Well, we will ask those you have mentioned, and Ihope they will come. But there is the tea-bell, and I shall carry mydolly out to the dining-room, " he said, rising with her in his arms. 

"Papa, " she said, when they had returned to their seats by the studyfire, "may I give mammy a nice present this Christmas?"

"Yes, " he replied kindly, "I supposed you would want to give somepresents, and I have just been thinking how it might be managed, as you are not fit to shop for yourself. As you have not had anypocket-money for several months, I will allow you now to spend asmuch as you choose--provided you keep within tolerably reasonablebounds, " he added, smiling; "so you may make out a list of all thearticles you want, and I will purchase them for you. Will that do?"

"Oh, nicely, papa!" she cried, clapping her hands with delight, "itwas very good of you to think of all that. "

"De slippers is come, darlin'; Bill, he fotched 'em from de city disafternoon, " remarked Chloe, as she was preparing her little charge forbed that night. 

"Oh, have they, mammy? let me see them!" was Elsie's eager exclamation. 

Chloe went to her room and was back again in a moment with a bundle inher hand, which Elsie immediately seized and opened with eager haste. 

"Oh, how pretty!" she cried, capering about with them in her hands, "aren't they, mammy? Won't papa be pleased?"

Then starting at the sound of his step in the adjoining room, she threwthem into a drawer which Chloe had hastily opened for the purpose. 

"Elsie, " said her father, opening the door and putting in his head, "whyare you not in bed, my daughter? you will take cold standing there halfundressed. Go to bed immediately. "

"Yes, papa, I will, " she replied submissively; and he drew back his headagain and shut the door. 

"'Mighty narrow 'scape dat, " remarked Chloe, laughing; "ef Massa had comejes a minute sooner, de cat been out de bag sure 'nough. "

Elsie made out her list the next day, with the help of some suggestionsfrom her father, and by Christmas eve all the purchases had been made, and one of the closets in her bed-room was quite filled with packagesof various sizes and shapes. 

The little girl was all excitement, and did not want to go to bed whenthe hour came. 

"Please, papa, let me stay up a little longer, " she pleaded coaxingly. "I am not a bit sleepy. "

"No, my daughter; you must go at once, " he said; "early hours are ofgreat importance in your present state of health, and you must try to putaway all exciting thoughts, and go to sleep as soon as you can. You willtry to obey me in this?"

"Yes, papa; I am sure I ought to be very good when you are so kind andindulgent to me, " she replied, as she put up her face for the usualgood-night kiss. 

"God bless and keep my little one, and give her many happy returns ofthis Christmas eve, " said Mr. Dinsmore, folding her to his heart. 

Elsie had intended to stay awake until her father should be in bed andasleep, and then to steal softly into his room and take away the slippershe usually wore, replacing them with the new ones which she had worked. But now she engaged Chloe to do this for her, and in obedience to hisdirections endeavored to put away all exciting thoughts and go to sleep, in which she succeeded much sooner than she could have believed possible. 

She was up and dressed, and saying "Merry Christmas!" at her papa's door, quite early the next morning. 

"Come in, " said he, "and tell me what fairy has been here, changing myold slippers to new ones. "

"No fairy at all, papa; but just dear old mammy, " she cried, springinginto his arms with a merry, ringing laugh. 

"Ah, but I know very well it wasn't Aunt Chloe's fingers that workedthem, " he said, kissing her first on one cheek, then on the other. "Iwish you a very merry Christmas, and a _very happy_ New Year, my darling. Thank you for your gift; I like it very much, indeed; and now see whatpapa has for _you_. "

And opening a pretty little box that stood on his dressing-table, he tookfrom it a beautiful pearl necklace and bracelets, and clasped them roundher neck and arms. 

"Oh, how beautiful! dear papa, thank you very much, " she exclaimed, delighted. 

"Your Aunt Adelaide thought you didn't care much for ornaments, " heremarked, looking much pleased. 

"I do when _you_ give them to me, papa, " she answered, raising her eyesto his face with one of her sweet, loving smiles. 

"I am very glad my present pleases you, " he said, "but for fear itshould not, I have provided another, " and he placed in her hand a veryhandsomely bound volume of Scott's poems. 

"I don't deserve it, papa, " she said, coloring deeply, and dropping hereyes on the carpet. 

"You shall have it, at any rate, " he replied, laying his hand gently onher drooping head; "and now you can finish the 'Lady of the Lake' thisafternoon, if you like. His prose works I may perhaps give you at somefuture day; but I do not choose you should read them for some years tocome. But now we will lay this book aside for the present, and haveour morning chapter together. "

They had finished their devotions, and she was sitting on his knee, waiting for the breakfast-bell to ring. 

"When did you find an opportunity to work these without letting me intothe secret?" he asked, extending his foot, and turning it from side toside to look at his slipper. "It puzzles me to understand it, since Iknow that for weeks past you have scarcely been an hour out of my sightduring the day--not since you were well enough to sew, " he said, smilingdown at her. 

There was an expression of deep gravity, almost amounting to sadness, onElsie's little face, that surprised her father a good deal. 

"All, papa!" she murmured, "it makes me feel sad, and glad, too, to lookat those slippers. "

"Why, darling?" he asked in a tender tone. 

"Because, papa, I worked almost the whole of them last summer, in thosesorrowful days when I was all alone. I thought I was going to die, papa, for I was sure I could not live very long without you to love me, and Iwanted to make something for you that would remind you of your littlegirl when she was gone, and perhaps convince you that she did reallylove you, although she seemed so naughty and rebellious, "

The tears were streaming down her cheeks, and there was a momentarystruggle to keep down a rising sob; and then she added--

"I finished them since I came here, papa, a little at a time, wheneveryou were not with me. "

He was deeply moved. "My poor darling!" he sighed, drawing her closer tohim, and caressing her tenderly, "those were sad days to us both, andthough I _then_ persuaded myself that I was doing my duty toward you, ifyou had been taken away from me I could never have forgiven myself, orknown another happy moment. But God has treated me with undeservedmercy. "

After breakfast the house-servants were all called in to familyworship, as usual; and when that had been attended to, Elsie uncovereda large basket which stood on a side-table, and with a face beamingwith delight, distributed the Christmas gifts--a nice new calico dress, or a bright-colored hand-kerchief to each, accompanied by a paper ofconfectionery. 

They were received with bows and courtesies, broad grins of satisfaction, and many repetitions of "Tank you, Miss Elsie! dese berry handsome--berrynice, jes de ting for dis chile. "

Mr. Dinsmore stood looking on highly gratified, and coming in for a shareof the thanks. 

An hour or two later, Elsie's little pony, and her father's larger butequally beautiful steed, were brought up to the door, and they rode downto the quarter, followed by Jim and Bill, each carrying a good-sizedbasket; and there a very similar scene was gone through with--Elsiefinishing up the business by showering sugar-plums into the outstretchedaprons of the little ones, laughing merrily at their eagerness, andhighly enjoying their delight. 

She half wished for an instant, as she turned her horse's head to rideaway again, that she was one of them, so much did she want a share of thecandy, which her father refused to let her taste, saying it was not fitfor her when she was well, and much less now while she had yet hardlyrecovered from severe illness. 

But it was a lovely morning, the air pure and bracing, and everythingelse was speedily forgotten in the pleasure of a brisk ride with herfather. They rode several miles, and on their return were overtakenby Mr. Travilla, who remarked that Elsie had quite a color, and waslooking more like herself than he had seen her since her sickness. He wason horseback, and his mother arrived a little later in the carriage, having called at Roselands on the way, and picked up Adelaide. Lora didnot come, as she had accepted an invitation to spend the holidays at Mr. Howard's, where a little girl about her own age, a cousin of Carry's, from the North, was spending the winter. 

Mr. Travilla put a beautiful little pearl ring on Elsie's finger, whichshe gracefully thanked him for, and then showing it to her father, "See, papa, " she said, "how nicely it matches the bracelets. "

"Yes, daughter, it is very pretty, " he replied, "and one of these days, when you are old enough to wear it, you shall have a pin to match. "

Mrs. Travilla and Adelaide each gave her a handsome book--Adelaide's wasa beautifully bound Bible--and Elsie was delighted with all her presents, and thought no little girl could be richer in Christmas gifts thanherself. 

The day passed very pleasantly, for they were quite like a family party, every one seeming to feel perfectly at home and at ease. 

The negroes were to have a grand dinner at the quarter, and Elsie, whohad been deeply interested in the preparations--cake-baking, etc. --wasnow very anxious to see them enjoying their feast; so about one o'clockshe and her father invited their guests to walk down there with them toenjoy the sight. 

"_I_, for one, would like nothing better, " said Mr. Travilla, offeringhis arm to Adelaide, while Mr. Dinsmore took Mrs. Travilla, Elsie walkingon the other side and keeping fast hold of his hand. 

They found it a very merry scene; and the actors in it scarcely enjoyedit more than the spectators. 

Their own dinner was served up somewhat later in the day, and withappetites rendered keen by their walk in the bracing air, they were readyto do it full justice. 

Adelaide, at her brother's request, took the head of the table, andplayed the part of hostess very gracefully. 

"Ah, Dinsmore, " remarked Travilla, a little mischievously, glancing fromone to the other, "you have a grand establishment here, but it stilllacks its chief ornament. Miss Adelaide fills the place _to-day_, mostgracefully, it is true; but then we all know she is only borrowed forthe occasion. "

Mr. Dinsmore colored a little and looked slightly annoyed. 

"Elsie will supply that deficiency in a few years, " he said, "and untilthen, I think I can depend upon the kindness of my sisters. Besides, Travilla, " he added laughingly, "you must not forget the old proverbabout people who live in glass houses. "

"Ah, " replied Travilla, looking affectionately at his mother, "_I have_ amistress for my establishment, and so can _afford_ to wait for Elsie. "

The child looked up quickly, with a slight flush on her face. 

"You needn't, Mr. Travilla!" she said, "for I am _never_ going to leavemy father; and you know he promised not to give me away, so if you want alittle girl you will have to look somewhere else. "

"Ah! well, I will not despair yet, " he replied laughingly, "for I havelearned that ladies, both little and large, very often change theirminds, and so I shall still live in hopes. "

"You know I like you very much indeed, Mr. Travilla--next best topapa--but then I couldn't leave him for _anybody_, you see, " Elsiesaid in a deprecating tone, and looking affectionately up into his face. 

"No, my dear, that is quite right, and I don't feel at all hurt, " heanswered with a good-natured smile, which seemed to relieve her verymuch. 

Tea was over, the guests had returned to their homes, and Mr. Dinsmoresat by the fire, as usual, with his little girl upon his knee. 

"We have had a very pleasant day, papa, haven't we?" she remarked. 

"Yes, darling, I have enjoyed it, and I hope you have, too. "

"Very much indeed, papa; and I do like all my presents so much. "

"If I should ask you to give me something of yours, would you be willingto do it?" he inquired in a grave tone. 

"Why, papa!" she said, looking up quickly into his face, "doesn'teverything I have belong to you?"

"In some sense it does, certainly, " he replied, "and yet I like you tofeel that you have some rights of property. But you did not answer myquestion. "

"I can't think what it can be, papa; but I am sure there is nothing ofmine that I wouldn't be very glad to give you, if you wanted it, " shesaid earnestly. 

"Well, then, " said he, "your aunt gave you a new Bible to-day, and as youdon't need two, will you give the old one to me?"

A slight shade had come over the little girl's face, and she sat for amoment apparently in deep thought; then, looking up lovingly into hisface, she replied, "I love it very much, papa, and I don't know whetherany other Bible could ever seem _quite_ the same to me--it was mamma's, you know--and it has been with me in all my troubles, and I don't thinkI could be quite willing to give it to anybody else; but I am very gladto give it to you, my own dear, dear papa!" and she threw her arms aroundhis neck. 

"Thank you very much, my darling. I know it is a very strong proof ofyour affection, and I shall value it more than its weight in gold, " hesaid, pressing her to his heart, and kissing her tenderly. 

CHAPTER XV. 

"Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm;Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles;And every sense, and every heart, is joy. "

THOMSON. 

It was spring again; early in April; the air was filled with the melodyof birds, and balmy with the breath of flowers. All nature was awaking torenewed life and vigor; but not so with our little friend. She had neverfully recovered her strength, and as the season advanced, and the weatherbecame warmer she seemed to grow more languid. 

Her father was very anxious about her, and sending for Dr. Barton onemorning, held a long consultation with him, the result of which was adetermination on Mr. Dinsmore's part that he would take his little girltravelling for some months. They would go North immediately; for thedoctor said it was the best thing that could be done; in fact the onlything that would be likely to benefit her. 

When the doctor had gone, Mr. Dinsmore went into Elsie's littlesitting-room, where she was busily engaged with her lessons. 

"I am not quite ready yet, papa, " she said, looking up as he entered;"isn't it a little before the time?"

"Yes, a little, " he replied, consulting his watch, "but you needn't mindthat lesson, daughter; I'm afraid I have been working you too hard. "

"Oh, no, papa! and if you please, I would rather finish the lesson. "

"Very well, then, I will wait for you, " he said, taking up a book. 

She came to him in a few moments, saying that she was quite readynow, and when he had heard her recitations, and praised her for theirexcellence, he bade her put her books away and come and sit on hisknee, for he had something to tell her. 

"Is it good news, papa?" she asked, as he lifted her to her accustomedseat. 

"Yes, I hope you will think so: it is that you and I, and mammy, and Johnare about to set out upon our travels. I am going to take you North tospend the summer, as the doctor thinks that is the best thing that can bedone to bring back your health and strength. "

Elsie's eyes were dancing with joy. "Oh, how delightful that will be!"she exclaimed. "And will you take me to see Miss Rose, papa?"

"Yes, anywhere that you would like to go. Suppose we make out a list ofthe places we would like to visit, " he said, taking out pencil and paper. 

"Oh, yes, papa, " she answered eagerly; "I would like to go to Washington, to see the Capitol, and the President's house, and then to Philadelphiato see Independence Hall, where they signed the Declaration, you know, and then to New York, and then to Boston; for I want to see Bunker Hill, and Faneuil Hall, and all the places that we read so much about in thehistory of the Revolution, and--but, papa, may I _really_ go _wherever_I want to?" she asked, interrupting herself in the midst of her rapidenumeration, to which he was listening with an amused expression. 

"I said so, did I not?" he replied, smiling at her eagerness. 

"Well, then, papa, I want to see Lakes Champlain and Ontario; yes, andall those great lakes--and Niagara Fails; and to sail up or down theHudson River and the Connecticut, and I would like to visit the WhiteMountains, and--I don't know where else I would like to go, but--"

"That will do pretty well for a beginning, I think, " he said, laughing, "and by the time we are through with all those, if you are not ready toreturn home, you may be able to think of some more. Now for the time ofstarting. This is Wednesday--I think we will leave next Tuesday morning. "

"I am glad it is so soon, " Elsie said, with a look of great satisfaction, "for I am in such a hurry to see Miss Rose. Must I go on with lessonsthis week, papa?"

"With your music and drawing; but that will be all, except that we willread history together for an hour every day. I know a little regularemployment will make the time pass much more quickly and pleasantly toyou. "

Elsie could now talk of very little but her expected journey, and thoughtthat time moved much more slowly than usual; yet when Monday evening cameand she and her father walked over the grounds, taking leave of all herfavorite haunts, everything was looking so lovely that she half regrettedthe necessity of leaving her beautiful home even for a few months. 

They started very early in the morning, before the sun was up, travellingto the city in their own carriage, and then taking the cars. 

They visited Baltimore and Washington, staying just long enough in eachplace to see all that was worth seeing; then went on to Philadelphia, where they expected to remain several weeks, as it was there Miss Roseresided. Mr. Allison was a prosperous merchant, with a fine establishmentin the city, and a very elegant country-seat a few miles out of it. 

On reaching the city Elsie was in such haste to see her friend, that sheentreated her father to go directly to Mr. Allison's, saying she wascertain that Miss Rose would wish them to do so. 

But Mr. Dinsmore would not consent. "It would never do, " he said, "torush in upon our friends in that way, without giving them any warning;we might put them to great inconvenience. "

So John was sent for a carriage, and they drove to one of the firsthotels in the city, where Mr. Dinsmore at once engaged rooms for himself, daughter, and servants. 

"You are looking tired, my child, " he said, as he led Elsie to her roomand seated her upon a sofa; "and you are warm and dusty. But mammy mustgive you a bath, and put on your loose wrapper, and I will have yoursupper brought up here, and then you must go early to bed, and I hopeyou will feel quite bright again in the morning. "

"Yes, papa, I hope so; and then you will take me to see Miss Rose, won'tyou?" she asked coaxingly. 

"I will send them our cards to-night, my dear, since you feel in suchhaste, " he replied in a pleasant tone, "and probably Miss Rose will behere in the morning if she is well, and cares to see us. "

John and the porter were bringing up the trunks. They set them down andwent out again, followed by Mr. Dinsmore, who did not return until halfan hour afterwards, when he found Elsie lying on the sofa, seeming muchrefreshed by her bath and change of clothing. "You look better already, dearest, " he said, stooping to press a kiss on her lips. 

"And you, too, papa, " she answered, smiling up at him. "I think itimproves any one to get the dust washed off. Won't you take your teaup here with me? I should like it so much. "

"I will, darling, " he said kindly; "it is a great pleasure to me togratify you in any harmless wish. " And then he asked her what she wouldlike for her supper, and told Chloe to ring for the waiter, that shemight order it. 

After their tea they had their reading and prayer together; then he badeher good-night and left her, telling Chloe to put her to bed immediately. Chloe obeyed, and the little girl rose the next morning, feeling quiterested, and looking very well and bright. 

"How early do you think Miss Rose will come, papa?" was the firstquestion she put to him on his entrance into her room. 

"Indeed, my child, I do not know, but I certainly should not advise youto expect her before ten o'clock, at the very earliest. "

"And it isn't eight yet, " murmured Elsie, disconsolately. "Oh, papa, Iwish you would take me to see her as soon as breakfast is over. "

He shook his head. "You must not be so impatient, my little daughter, "he said, drawing her towards him. "Shall I take you to Independence Hallto-day?"

"Not until Miss Rose has been here, if you please, papa; because I am soafraid of missing her. "

"Very well, you may stay in this morning, if you wish, " he repliedin an indulgent tone, as he took her hand to lead her down to thebreakfast-table. 

So Elsie remained in her room all the morning, starting at everyfootstep, and turning her head eagerly every time the door opened:but no Miss Rose appeared, and she met her father at dinner-time witha very disconsolate face. He sympathized in her disappointment, andsaid all he could to raise her drooping spirits. 

When dinner was over, he did not ask if he should take her out, butquietly bade her go to Chloe and get her bonnet put on. She obeyed, asshe knew she must, without a word, but as he took her hand on her return, to lead her out, she asked, "Is there no danger that Miss Rose will comewhile we are gone, papa?"

"If she does, my dear, she will leave her card, and then we can go tosee her; or very possibly she may wait until we return, " he answeredin a kind, cheerful tone. "But at any rate, you must have a walk thisafternoon. "

Elsie sighed a little, but said no more, and her father led her along, talking so kindly, and finding so many pretty things to show her, thatafter a little she almost forgot her anxiety and disappointment. 

They were passing a confectioner's, where the display of sweetmeats inthe window was unusually tempting. Elsie called his attention to it. 

"See, papa, how _very_ nice those candies look!"

He smiled a little, asking, "Which do you think looks the most inviting?"

"I don't know, papa, there is such a variety. "

"I will indulge you for once--it isn't often I do, " he said, leading herinto the store; "so now choose what you want and I will pay for it. "

"Thank you, papa!" and the smile that accompanied the words was a verybright one. 

When they returned to their hotel Elsie eagerly inquired of Chloe if MissRose had been there, and was again sadly disappointed to learn that shehad not. 

"Oh, papa!" she said, bursting into tears, "what _can_ be the reason shedoesn't come?"

"I don't know, darling, " he answered soothingly; "but never mind; she isprobably away from home, and perhaps will return in a day or two. "

The next morning Mr. Dinsmore would not hear of staying in to wait fora call that was so uncertain, but ordered a carriage immediately afterbreakfast, and had Elsie out sight-seeing and shopping all day. One oftheir visits--one which particularly pleased and interested the littlegirl--was to Independence Hall, where they were shown the bell which inRevolutionary days had, in accordance with its motto, "Proclaimed libertythroughout all the land, to all the inhabitants thereof. "

"I am so glad to have seen it, papa, " Elsie said. "I have always felt sointerested in its story, and shall never forget it so long as I live. "

"Yes, " he said, with a pleased smile, "I was sure you would enjoy seeingit; for I know my little girl is very patriotic. "

Other historical scenes were visited after that, and thus several dayspassed very pleasantly. Still there were no tidings of Miss Allison, and at last Elsie gave up expecting her; for her father said it mustcertainly be that the family had left the city for the summer, althoughit was so early in the season; so he decided that they would go on andvisit Boston, and the White Mountains; and perhaps go up the HudsonRiver, too, and to Niagara Falls, and the lakes, stopping in Philadelphiaagain on their return; when their friends would probably be in the cityagain. 

It was on Saturday morning that he announced this decision to Elsie, adding that they would remain where they were over the Sabbath, and leavefor New York early Monday morning. 

Elsie sighed at the thought of giving up for so long a time all hope ofseeing Miss Rose, and looked very sober for a little while, though shesaid nothing. 

"Well, I believe we have seen all the sights in this city of BrotherlyLove, so what shall we do with ourselves to-day?" her father asked gayly, as he drew her towards him, and playfully patted her cheek. 

"I should like to go back to the Academy of Fine Arts, if you will takeme, papa; there are several pictures there which I want very much to seeagain. "

"Then get your bonnet, my pet, and we will go at once, " he said; andElsie hastened to do his bidding. 

There were very few other visitors in the Academy when Mr. Dinsmore andhis little girl entered. They spent several hours there, almost too muchabsorbed in studying the different paintings to notice who were coming orgoing, or what might be passing about them. They themselves, however, were by no means unobserved, and more than once the remark might havebeen heard from some one whose eyes were turned in that direction, "Whata very fine-looking gentleman!" or, "What a lovely little girl!"

One young lady and gentleman watched them for some time. 

"What a very handsome and distinguished-looking man he is, " remarked thelady in an undertone, "His face looks familiar, too, and yet I surelycannot have met him before. "

"Yes, he is a fine, gentlemanly looking fellow, " replied her companion inthe same low tone, "but it is the little girl that attracts my attention. She is perfectly lovely! his sister, I presume. There, Rose, now you cansee her face, " he added, as at that moment Elsie turned toward them. 

"Oh, it is a dear little face! But can it be? no, surely it isimpossible! yes, yes, it _is_, my own little Elsie!"

For at that instant their eyes met, and uttering a joyful exclamation, the little girl darted across the room, and threw herself into the lady'sarms, crying, "Oh, Miss Rose! dear, dear Miss Rose, how glad I am!"

"Elsie! darling! why, where did you come from?" and Rose's arms wereclasped about the little girl's waist, and she was showering kisses uponthe sweet little face. 

"I did not even know you were in the North, " she said presently, releasing her from her embrace, but still keeping fast hold of her hand, and looking down lovingly into her face. "When did you come? and who iswith you? but I need scarcely ask, for it must be your papa, of course. "

"Yes, ma'am, " replied Elsie, looking round, "there he is, and see! he iscoming toward us. Papa, this is Miss Rose. "

Rose held out her hand with one of her sweetest smiles. "I am very gladto see you, Mr. Dinsmore, especially as you have brought my dear littlefriend with you. This is my brother Edward, " she added, turning to hercompanion. "Mr. Dinsmore, Edward, and little Elsie, of whom you have sooften heard me speak. "

There was a cordial greeting all around; then questions were asked andanswered until everything had been explained; Mr. Dinsmore learning thatMr. Allison's family were out of the city, passing the summer at theircountry-seat, and had never received his cards; but that to-day, Rose andher brother had come in to do a little shopping, and finding that theyhad an hour to spare, had fortunately decided to pay a visit to theAcademy. 

When these explanations had been made, Edward and Rose urged Mr. Dinsmoreto return with them to their home and pay them a long visit, saying thatthey knew nothing else would at all satisfy their parents, and at lengthhe consented to do so, on condition that they first dined with him at hishotel, to which they finally agreed. 

Elsie was delighted with the arrangement, and looked happier, her fatherlaughingly affirmed, than she had done for a week. 

She was seated by Miss Rose at dinner, and also in the carriage duringtheir ride, which was a beautiful one, and just long enough to bepleasant. 

They had passed a number of very handsome residences, which Rose hadpointed out to Elsie, generally giving the name of the occupant, andasking how she liked the place. "Now, Elsie, we are coming to another, "she said, laying her hand on the little girl's arm, "and I want you totell me what you think of it. See! that large, old-fashioned housebuilt of gray stone; there, beyond the avenue of elms. "

"Oh, I like it so much! better than any of the others! I think I shouldlike to live there. "

"I am very glad it pleases you, " Rose answered with a smile, "and I hopeyou will live there, at least for some weeks or months. "

"Oh, it is your home? how glad I am!" exclaimed the little girl as thecarriage turned into the avenue. 

"This is a very fine old place, Miss Allison, " remarked Mr. Dinsmore, turning toward her; "I think one might well be content to spend his dayshere. "

Rose looked gratified, and pointed out several improvements her fatherhad been making. "I am very proud of my home, " she said, "but I do notthink it more lovely than Roselands. "

"Ah! Miss Rose, but you ought to see the Oaks--papa's new place, " saidElsie, eagerly. "It is much handsomer than Roselands, I think. Miss Rosemust visit us next time, papa, must she not?"

"If she will, daughter, Miss Allison, or any other member of her father'sfamily, will always find a warm welcome at my house. "

Rose had only time to say "Thank you, " before the carriage had stopped, and Edward, springing out, was ready to assist the others to alight. 

Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie were left standing upon the piazza, looking aboutthem, while Edward was engaged for a moment in giving some directions tothe coachman, and Rose was speaking to a servant who had come out ontheir approach. 

"Mamma is lying down with a bad headache, Mr. Dinsmore, and papa hasnot yet returned from the city, " said Rose, turning to her guests; "butI hope you will excuse them, and Edward will show you to your room, andtry to make you feel at home. "

Mr. Dinsmore politely expressed his regret at Mrs. Allison's illness, andhis hope that their arrival would not be allowed to disturb her. 

Miss Allison then left him to her brother's care, and taking Elsie'shand, led her to her own room. It was a large, airy apartment, veryprettily furnished, with another a little smaller opening into it. 

"This is my room, Elsie, " said Miss Rose, "and that is Sophy's. You willsleep with her, and so I can take care of you both, for though Chloe canattend you morning and evening as usual, she will have to sleep in one ofthe servants' rooms in the attic. "

She had been taking off Elsie's bonnet, and smoothing her hair as shespoke, and now removing her own, she sat down on a low seat, and takingthe little girl on her lap, folded her in her arms, and kissed her overand over again, saying softly, "My darling, darling child! I cannot tellyou how glad and thankful I am to have you in my arms once more. I loveyou very dearly, little Elsie. "

Elsie was almost too glad to speak, but presently she whispered, "Notbetter than I love you, dear Miss Rose. I love you next to papa. "

"And you are very happy now?"

"Very, very happy. Do you like my papa, Miss Rose?"

"Very much, dear, so far, " Rose replied with simple truthfulness; "heseems to be a very polished gentleman, and I think is extremely handsome;but what is best of all, I can see he is a very fond father, " she added, bestowing another kiss upon the little rosy cheek. 

"I am so glad!" exclaimed the little girl, her eyes sparkling withpleasure. Then she added, in a deprecating tone, "But he doesn't spoilme, Miss Rose; indeed he does not. I always know I must obey, andpromptly and cheerfully, too. "

"No, dearest, I did not think you had been spoiled; indeed, I doubt if itwould be possible to spoil you, " Rose answered in a tone of fondness. 

"Ah! you don't know me, Miss Rose, " said Elsie, shaking her head. "Ifpapa were not very firm and decided with me, I know I should be verywilful sometimes, and he knows it, too; but he is too really kind toindulge me in naughtiness. My dear, dear papa! Miss Rose, I love himso much. "

"I am so glad for you, my poor little one, " murmured Rose, drawing thelittle girl closer to her. "It seemed so sad and lonely for you, withneither father nor mother to love you. And you were very ill last summer, darling? and very unhappy before that? Your Aunt Adelaide wrote me allabout it, and my heart ached for my poor darling; oh, how I longed tocomfort her!"

"Yes, Miss Rose, that was a dreadful time; but papa only did what hethought was right, and you cannot think how kind he was when I wasgetting better. " Elsie's eyes were full of tears. 

"I know it, darling, and I pitied him, too, and often prayed for youboth, " said Rose. "But tell me, dearest, was Jesus near to you in yourtroubles?"

"Yes, Miss Rose, very near, and very precious; else how could I haveborne it at all? for oh, Miss Rose, I thought sometimes my heart wouldbreak!"

"It was a bitter trial, dearest, I know; and certain I am that you musthave had much more than your own strength to enable you to be so firm, "said Rose, tenderly. 

"Ah, there is Sophy!" she added quickly, as a mass of flaxen curls, accompanied by a pair of dancing blue eyes, appeared for an instant atthe door, and then as suddenly vanished. "Sophy! Sophy, come here!" shecalled, and again the door opened and the owner of the blue eyes andflaxen ringlets--a little girl about Elsie's age, came in, and movedslowly towards them, looking at the stranger in her sister's lap with amingled expression of fun, curiosity, and bashfulness. 

"Come, Sophy, this is Elsie Dinsmore, whom you have so often wished tosee, " said Rose. "Elsie, this is my little sister Sophy. I want you to befriends, and learn to love one another dearly. There, Sophy, take herinto your room, and show her all your toys and books, while I am changingmy dress; that will be the way for you to get acquainted. "

Sophy did as she was desired, and, as Rose had foreseen, the firstfeeling of bashfulness soon wore off, and in a few moments they weretalking and laughing together as though they had been acquainted asmany months. Sophy had brought out a number of dolls, and they werediscussing their several claims to beauty in a very animated way whenRose called to them to come with her. 

"I am going to carry you off to the nursery, Elsie, to see the littleones, " she said, taking her young visitor's hand; "should you like to seethem?"

"Oh, so much!" Elsie exclaimed eagerly; "if Sophy may go, too. "

"Oh, yes, Sophy will come along, of course, " Miss Rose said, leading theway as she spoke. 

Elsie found the nursery, a beautiful, large room, fitted up with everycomfort and convenience, and abounding in a variety of toys for theamusement of the children, of whom there were three--the baby crowing inits nurse's arms, little May, a merry, romping child of four, with flaxencurls and blue eyes like Sophy's, and Freddie, a boy of seven. 

Harold, who was thirteen, sat by one of the windows busily engagedcovering a ball for Fred, who with May stood intently watching themovements of his needle. 

Elsie was introduced to them all, one after another. 

Harold gave her a cordial shake of the hand, and a pleasant "Welcome toElmgrove, " and the little ones put up their faces to be kissed. 

Elsie thought Harold a kind, pleasant-looking boy, not at all likeArthur, Fred and May, dear little things, and the baby perfectlycharming, as she afterwards confided to her father. 

"May I take the baby, Miss Rose?" she asked coaxingly. 

Miss Rose said "Yes, " and the nurse put it in her arms for a moment. 

"Dear, pretty little thing!" she exclaimed, kissing it softly. "How oldis it, Miss Rose? and what is its name?"

"She is nearly a year old, and we call her Daisy. "

"I'm sure your arms must be getting tired, miss, for she's quite heavy, "remarked the nurse presently, taking the child again. 

Miss Rose now said it was time to go down-stairs, and left the room, followed by Elsie, Harold, and Sophy, the last-named putting her armaround Elsie's waist, saying what a delightful time they would havetogether, and that she hoped she would stay all summer. 

They had not quite reached the end of the hall when Elsie saw her fathercome out of the door of another room, and hastily releasing herself fromSophy's arm, she ran to him, and catching hold of his hand, looked upeagerly into his face, saying, "Oh, papa, do come into the nursery andsee the dear little children and the baby! it is so pretty. "

He looked inquiringly at Miss Allison. 

"If you care to see it, Mr. Dinsmore, " she said, smiling, "there is noobjection; we are very proud of our baby. "

"Then I should like to go, " he replied, "both to gratify Elsie andbecause I am fond of children. "

Rose led the way and they all went back to the nursery, where Mr. Dinsmore kissed the little folks all round, patted their heads and talkedkindly to them, then took the babe in his arms, praising its beauty, andtossing it up till he made it laugh and crow right merrily. 

"I often wish I had seen my baby, " he remarked to Rose, as he returnedit to the nurse. Then laying his hand on Elsie's head, "Do you know, MissAllison, " he asked, "that I never saw my little girl until she was nearlyeight years old?"

"Yes, " she replied, "I knew her before you did, and sympathized stronglyin her longing for a father's love. "

"Ah! we both lost a good deal in those years, and if I could live themover again it should be very different, " he said, with a loving glanceat his daughter's face; "nothing should keep me from my child. Though nodoubt it has all been for the best, " he added, with a slight sigh, as hethought of the worldly wisdom he would have taught her. 

They all now went down to the parlor, where Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie wereintroduced to Richard Allison, a wild boy full of fun and frolic, betweenRose and Harold in age. 

Edward was the eldest of the family, and quite sober and sedate. 

Richard took a great fancy to Elsie from the first moment, and verysoon had coaxed her out to the lawn, where he presently engaged her ina merry game of romps with Sophy, Harold, and himself, which was finallybrought to a conclusion by the arrival of the elder Mr. Allison, almostimmediately followed by the call to supper. 

Mr. Allison had a pleasant face, and was a younger looking man than mighthave been expected in the father of such a family. He welcomed his guestswith the greatest cordiality, expressing the hope that they intendedpaying a long visit to Elmgrove, which he said they owed him in returnfor Rose's lengthened sojourn at Roselands. 

Mrs. Allison also made her appearance at the tea-table, saying that shehad nearly recovered from her headache; although she still looked paleand languid. 

She had a kind, motherly look, and a gentle, winning address that quitetook Elsie's fancy; and was evidently pleased at their arrival, andanxious to entertain them in the most hospitable manner. 

Mr. Dinsmore and his little girl were the only guests, and all thechildren, excepting the baby, were allowed to come to the table. 

They seemed to be well-bred children, behaved in a quiet, orderly way, and asked politely for what they wanted, but were rather too muchindulged, Mr. Dinsmore thought, as he observed that they all ate anddrank whatever they fancied, without any remonstrance from their parents. 

Elsie was seated between her father and Miss Rose. 

"Will your little girl take tea or coffee, Mr. Dinsmore?" asked Mrs. Allison. 

"Neither, thank you, madam: she will take a glass of milk if you have it;if not, cold water will do very well, "

"Why, Elsie, I thought I remembered that you were very fond of coffee, "Rose remarked, as she filled a tumbler with milk and set it down besidethe little girl's plate. 

"Elsie is a good child, and eats and drinks just whatever her fatherthinks best for her, Miss Allison, " said Mr. Dinsmore, preventing Elsie'sreply. "No, no; not any of those, if you please, " for Rose was puttinghot, buttered waffles upon Elsie's plate; "I don't allow her to eat hotcakes, especially at night. "

"Excuse me, Mr. Dinsmore, but are you not eating them yourself?" askedRose, with an arch smile. 

"Yes, Miss Rose; and so may she when she is my age, " he answered in apleasant tone, accompanied by an affectionate glance and smile bestowedupon his little daughter. 

"I think you are quite right, Mr. Dinsmore, " remarked Mrs. Allison. "I know we pamper our children's appetites entirely too much, as I haveoften said to their father; but he does not agree with me, and I have notsufficient firmness to carry out the reform by myself. "

"No, I like to see them enjoy themselves, and whatever I have, I want mychildren to have, too, " said Mr. Allison, bluntly. 

"It would seem the kindest treatment at first sight, but I don't thinkit is in the end, " replied Mr. Dinsmore. "To buy present enjoyment atthe expense of an enfeebled constitution is paying much too dear for it, I think. "

"Ah! young people are full of notions, " said the elder gentleman, shakinghis head wisely, "and are very apt to be much more strict with the firstchild than with any of the rest. You are bringing this one up by rule, I see; but mark my words: if you live to be the father of as many as Ihave, you will grow less and less strict with each one, until you willbe ready to spoil the youngest completely. "

"I hope not, sir; I am very sure I could not possibly love another betterthan I do this, " Mr. Dinsmore said with a smile, and coloring slightly, too; then adroitly changed the subject by a remark addressed to Edward. 

Immediately after tea the whole family adjourned to the sitting-room, theservants were called in, and Mr. Allison read a portion of Scripture andprayed; afterwards remarking to Mr. Dinsmore that it was his custom toattend to this duty early in the evening, that the younger children mighthave the benefit of it without being kept up too late. 

Mr. Dinsmore expressed his approval, adding that it was his plan also. 

"Papa, " whispered Elsie, who was close to him, "I am to sleep withSophy. "

"Ah! that will be very pleasant for you, " he said, "but you must be agood girl, and not give any unnecessary trouble. "

"I will try, papa. There, Sophy is calling me; may I go to her?"

"Certainly;" and he released her hand, which he had been holding in his. 

"I want to show you my garden, " said Sophy, whom Elsie found in the hall;and she led the way out through a back door which opened into a gardennow gay with spring flowers and early roses. 

Sophy pointed out the corner which was her especial property, andexhibited her plants and flowers with a great deal of honest pride. 

"I planted every one of them myself, " she said. "Harold dug up the groundfor me, and I did all the rest, I work an hour every morning pulling upthe weeds and watering the flowers. "

"Oh? won't you let me help you while I am here?" asked Elsie, eagerly. 

"Why, yes, if you like, and your papa won't mind I think it would be realfun. But he's very strict, isn't he, Elsie? I feel quite afraid of him. "

"Yes, he is strict, but he is very kind, too. "

"Let's go in now, " said Sophy; "I've got a beautiful picture-book thatI want to show you; and to-morrow's Sunday, you know, so if you don't seeit to-night, you'll have to wait till Monday, because it isn't a Sundaybook. "

"What time is it?" asked Elsie. "I always have to go to bed at half-pasteight. "

"I don't know, " said Sophy, "but we'll look at the clock in thedining-room, " and she ran in, closely followed by her little guest. 

"Just eight! we've only got half an hour; so come along. But won't yourpapa let you stay up longer?"

"No, " Elsie answered in a very decided tone; and they hurried to theparlor, where they seated themselves in a corner, and were soon eagerlydiscussing the pictures in Sophy's book. 

They had just finished, and Sophy was beginning a very animateddescription of a child's party she had attended a short time before, when Elsie, who had been anxiously watching her father for the lastfive minutes, saw him take out his watch and look at her. 

"There, Sophy, " she said, rising, "I know papa means it is time for meto go to bed. "

"Oh, just wait one minute!"

But Elsie was already half way across the room. 

"It is your bedtime, daughter, " said Mr. Dinsmore, smiling affectionatelyon her. 

"Yes, papa; good-night, " and she held up her face for the accustomedkiss. 

"Good-night, daughter, " he replied, bestowing the caress. Then laying hishand gently on her head, he said softly, "God bless and keep my littleone. "

Rose, who was seated on the sofa beside him, drew Elsie to her, saying, "I must have a kiss, too, darling. "

"Now go, daughter, " said Mr. Dinsmore, as Rose released her from herembrace, "go to bed as soon as you can, and don't lie awake talking. "

"Mayn't I talk at all, after I go to bed, papa?"

"No, not at all. "

Seeing that Elsie was really going, Sophy had put away her book, and wasnow ready to accompany her. She was quite a talker, and rattled on veryfast until she saw Elsie take out her Bible; but then became perfectlyquiet until Elsie was through with her devotions, and Chloe had come toprepare her for bed. Then she began chatting again in her lively way, Elsie answering very pleasantly until she was just ready to step intobed, when she said gently, "Sophy, papa said, before I came up, that Imust not talk at all after I got into bed, so please don't be vexed ifI don't answer you, because you know I _must_ obey my father. "

"Pshaw! how provoking. I thought we were going to have such a good time, and I've got ever so much to say to you. "

"I'm just as sorry as you are, Sophy, but I can't disobey papa. "

"He'd never know it, " suggested Sophy in a voice scarcely above awhisper. 

Elsie started with astonishment to hear Miss Rose's sister speaking thus. 

"Oh, Sophy! you can't mean to advise me to deceive and disobey myfather?" she said. "God would know it, and papa would soon know it, too, for I could never look him in the face again until I had confessed it. "

Sophy blushed deeply. "I didn't think about its being deceitful. Butwould your papa punish you for such a little thing?"

"Papa says disobedience is never a little thing, and he always punishesme when I disobey him; but I wouldn't care so much for that, as forknowing that I had grieved him so; because I love my papa very dearly. But I must not talk any more; so good-night;" and she climbed into bed, laid her head on the pillow, and in a very few moments was fast asleep. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

"Hail, Holy Day! the blessing from aboveBrightens thy presence like a smile of love, Smoothing, like oil upon a stormy sea, The roughest waves of human destiny--Cheering the good, and to the poor oppresse'dBearing the promise of their heavenly rest. "

MRS. HALE'S PRIME OF LIFE. 

When Chloe came in to dress her young charge the next morning, she foundher already up and sitting with her Bible in her hand. 

"Don't make a noise, mammy, " she whispered; "Sophy is still asleep. "

Chloe nodded acquiescence, and moving softly about, got through thebusiness of washing and dressing her nursling, and brushing her curls, without disturbing the sleeper. Then they both quietly left the room, andElsie, with her Bible in her hand, rapped gently at her father's door. 

He opened it, and giving her a kiss and a "Good-morning, darling, " ledher across the room to where he had been sitting by a window looking intothe garden. Then taking her on his knee, and stroking her hair fondly, hesaid with a smile, "My little girl looks very bright this morning, and asif she had had a good night's rest. I think she obeyed me, and did notlie awake talking. "

"No, papa, I did not, though I wanted to very much, " she answered with aslight blush. 

"We did not have our chapter together last night, " he said, opening theBible, "but I hope we will not miss it very often. "

Their plan was to read verse about, Elsie asking questions aboutanything she did not understand, and her father explaining and makingremarks, he having read it first in the original, and generally consulteda commentator also. Then Elsie usually had one or two texts to recite, which she had learned while Chloe was dressing her; after that they kneltdown and Mr. Dinsmore prayed. They never read more than a few verses, andhis prayer was always short, so that there was no room for weariness, andElsie always enjoyed it very much. They had still a little time to talktogether before the breakfast-bell rang, of which Elsie was very glad, for she had a great deal to say to her father. 

"It is such a sweet, sweet Sabbath-day, papa, " she said, "is it not? andthis is such a nice place, almost as pretty as our own dear home; and arethey not pleasant people? I think they seem so kind to one another, andto everybody. "

"Which must mean you and me, I suppose; there is no one else here, " heanswered smilingly. 

"Oh! the servants, you know, papa, and the people at the hotel: but don'tyou think they are kind?"

"Yes, dear, they certainly seem to be, and I have no doubt they are. "

"And the baby, papa! isn't it pretty, and oh, papa, _don't_ you like MissRose?"

"I hardly know her yet, daughter, but I think she is very sweet looking, and seems to be gentle and amiable. "

"I am glad you like her, papa; and I knew you would, " Elsie said in atone of great satisfaction. 

The church the Allisons attended was within easy walking distance ofElmgrove, and service was held in it twice a day; the whole family, withthe exception of the very little children and one servant, who stayed athome to take care of them, went both morning and afternoon, and Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie accompanied them. 

The interval between dinner and afternoon service Elsie spent in herfather's room, sitting on a stool at his feet quietly reading. When theyhad returned from church Miss Allison gathered all the little ones in thenursery and showed them pictures, and told them Bible stories, until thetea-bell rang; after which the whole family, including children andservants, were called together into the sitting-room to be catechizedby Mr. Allison; that was succeeded by family worship, and then they sanghymns until it was time for the children to go to bed. 

As Elsie laid her head on her pillow that night, she said to herself thatit had been a very pleasant day, and she could be quite willing to liveat Elmgrove, were it not for the thought of her own dear home in the"sunny South. "

The next morning her father told her they would be there forseveral weeks, and that he would expect her to practise an hour everymorning--Miss Rose having kindly offered the use of her piano--and everyafternoon to read for an hour with him; but all the rest of the day shemight have to herself, to spend just as she pleased; only, of course, shemust manage to take sufficient exercise, and not get into any mischief. 

Elsie was delighted with the arrangement, and ran off at once to tellSophy the good news. 

"Oh! I am ever so glad you are going to stay!" exclaimed Sophy joyfully. "But why need your papa make you say lessons at all? I think he mightjust as well let you play all the time. "

"No, " replied Elsie, "papa says I will enjoy my play a great deal betterfor doing a little work first, and I know it is so. Indeed, I always findpapa knows best. "

"Oh, Elsie!" Sophy exclaimed, as if struck with a bright thought, "I'lltell you what we can do! let us learn some duets together. "

"Yes, that's a good thought, " said Elsie; "so we will. "

"And perhaps Sophy would like to join us in our reading, too, " said Mr. Dinsmore's voice behind them. 

Both little girls turned round with an exclamation of surprise, andElsie, taking hold of his hand, looked up lovingly into his face, saying, "Oh, thank you, papa; that will be so pleasant. "

He held out his other hand to Sophy, asking, with a smile, "Will youcome, my dear?"

"If you won't ask me any questions, " she answered a little bashfully. 

"Sophy is afraid of you, papa, " whispered Elsie with an arch glance ather friend's blushing face. 

"And are not you, too?" he asked, pinching her cheek. 

"Not a bit, papa, except when I've been naughty, " she said, laying hercheek lovingly against his hand. 

He bent down and kissed her with a very gratified look. Then pattingSophy's head, said pleasantly, "You needn't be afraid of the questions, Sophy; I will make Elsie answer them all. "

Elsie and her papa stayed for nearly two months at Elmgrove, and her lifethere agreed so well with the little girl that she became as strong, healthy and rosy as she had ever been. She and Sophy and Harold spent thegreater part of almost every day in the open air--working in the garden, racing about the grounds, taking long walks in search of wild flowers, hunting eggs in the barn, or building baby-houses and making tea-partiesin the shade of the trees down by the brook. 

There was a district school-house not very far from Elmgrove, and intheir rambles the children had made acquaintance with two or three ofthe scholars--nice, quiet little girls--who, after a while, got intothe habit of bringing their dinner-baskets to the rendezvous by thebrook-side, and spending their noon-recess with Elsie and Sophy; thedinner hour at Mr. Allison's being somewhat later in the day. 

Sophy and Elsie were sitting under the trees one warm June morningdressing their dolls. Fred and May were rolling marbles, and Harold layon the grass with a book in his hand. 

"There come Hetty Allen and Maggie Wilson, " said Sophy, raising her head. "See how earnestly they are talking together! I wonder what it is allabout. What's the matter, girls?" she asked, as they drew near. 

"Oh, nothing's the matter, " replied Hetty, "but we are getting up a partyto go strawberrying. We've heard of a field only two miles from here--orat least not much over two miles from the school-house--where the berriesare very thick. We are going to-morrow, because it's Saturday, andthere's no school, and we've come to ask if you and Elsie and Haroldwon't go along. "

"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed Sophy, clapping her hands; "it will be such fun, and I'm sure mamma will let us go. "

"Oh, that's a first-rate idea!" cried Harold, throwing aside his book;"to be sure we must all go. "

"Will you go, Elsie?" asked Maggie; adding, "we want you so very much. "

"Oh, yes, if papa will let me, and I think he will, for he allows meto run about here all day, which I should think was pretty much thesame thing, only there will be more fun and frolic with so many of ustogether, and the berries to pick, too; oh, I should like to go very muchindeed!"

Hetty and Maggie had seated themselves on the grass, and now thewhole plan was eagerly discussed. The children were all to meet atthe school-house at nine o'clock, and proceed in a body to the field, taking their dinners along so as to be able to stay all day if theychose. 

The more the plan was discussed, the more attractive it seemed to ourlittle friends, and the stronger grew their desire to be permitted to go. 

"I wish I knew for certain that mamma would say yes, " said Sophy. "Suppose we go up to the house now and ask. "

"No, " objected Harold, "mamma will be busy now, and less likely to sayyes, than after dinner. So we had better wait. "

"Well, then, you all ask leave when you go up to dinner, and we will callhere on our way home from school to know whether you are going or not, "said Hetty, as she and Maggie rose to go. 

Harold and Sophy agreed, but Elsie said that she could not know then, because her father had gone to the city and would not be back until neartea-time. 

"Oh, well, never mind! he'll be sure to say yes if mamma does, " saidHarold, hopefully. And then, as Hetty and Maggie walked away, he beganconsulting with Sophy on the best plan for approaching their mother onthe subject. They resolved to wait until after dinner, and then, when shehad settled down to her sewing, to present their request. 

Mrs. Allison raised several objections; the weather was very warm, theroad would be very dusty, and she was sure they would get overheated andfatigued, and heartily wish themselves at home long before the day wasover. 

"Well, then, mamma, we can come home; there is nothing to prevent us, "said Harold. 

"Oh, mamma, do let us go just this once, " urged Sophy; "and if we find itas disagreeable as you think, you know we won't ask again. "

And so at last Mrs. Allison gave a rather reluctant consent, but only oncondition that Mr. Dinsmore would allow Elsie to go, as she said it wouldbe very rude indeed for them to go and leave their little guest at homealone. 

This conversation had taken place in Mrs. Allison's dressing-room, andElsie was waiting in the hall to learn the result of their application. 

"Mamma says we may go if your papa says yes, " cried Sophy, rushing outand throwing her arms round Elsie's neck. "Oh, aren't you glad? Now, Elsie, coax him hard and make him let you go. "

"I wouldn't dare to do it; I should only get punished if I did, for papanever allows me to coax or tease, nor even to ask him a second time, "Elsie said, with a little shake of her head. 

"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Sophy, "I often get what I want by teasing. I guess you never tried it. "

"My papa is not at all like your father and mother, " replied Elsie, "andit would be worse than useless to coax after he has once said no. "

"Then coax him before he has a chance to say it, " suggested Sophy, laughing. 

"Perhaps that might do if I can manage it, " said Elsie, thoughtfully. "I wish he would come!" she added, walking to the window and looking out. 

"He won't be here for an hour or two, at any rate, if he dined in thecity, " said Sophy. "Oh, how warm it is! let's go to our room, Elsie, andtake off our dresses and have a nap. It will help to pass away the timeuntil your papa comes. "

Elsie agreed to the proposal, and before long they were both soundasleep, having tired themselves out with romping and running. 

When Elsie awoke she found Chloe standing over her. "You's had a berrygood nap, darlin', an' you's berry warm, " she whispered, as she wiped theperspiration from the little girl's face. "Let your ole mammy take you upan' give you a bath an' dress you up nice an' clean, 'fore Miss Sophygits her blue eyes open. "

"Oh, yes, that will make me feel so much better, " agreed the little girl, "and you must make me look very nice, mammy, to please papa. Has he comeyet?"

"Yes, darlin'; master's been home dis hour, an' I 'specs he's in deparlor dis minute talkin' 'long of Miss Rose an' de rest. "

"Then hurry, mammy, and dress me quickly, because I want to ask papasomething, " Elsie said in an eager whisper, as she stepped hastily offthe bed. 

Chloe did her best, and in half an hour Elsie, looking as sweet and freshas a new-blown rose in her clean white frock and nicely brushed curls, entered the parlor where her father, Mrs. Allison, Miss Rose, and herelder brother were seated. 

Mr. Dinsmore was talking with Edward Allison, but he turned his head asElsie came in, and held out his hand to her with a proud, fond smile. 

She sprang to his side, and, still going on with his conversation, hepassed his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, while she leanedagainst his knee, and with her eyes feed lovingly upon his face waitedpatiently for an opportunity to prefer her request. 

Miss Rose was watching them, as she often did, with a look of intensesatisfaction, for it rejoiced her heart to see how her little friendrevelled in her father's affection. 

The gentlemen were discussing some scientific question with greatearnestness, and Elsie began to feel a little impatient as they talked onand on without seeming to come any nearer to a conclusion: but at lastEdward rose and left the room in search of a book which he thought wouldthrow some light on the subject; and then her father turned to her andasked, "How has my little girl enjoyed herself to-day?"

"Very much, thank you, papa; but I have something to ask you, and I wantyou to say yes. Please, papa, _do!_ won't you?" she pleaded eagerly, butin a low tone only meant for his ears. 

"You know I love to gratify you, daughter, " he said kindly, "but I cannotpossibly say yes until I know what you want. "

"Well, papa, " she replied, speaking very fast, as if she feared he wouldinterrupt her, "a good many little girls and boys are going afterstrawberries to-morrow: they are to start from the school-house, atnine o'clock in the morning, and walk two miles to a field where theberries are very thick; and they've asked us to go--I mean Harold andSophy and me--and we all want to go _so much_; we think it will besuch fun, and Mrs. Allison says we may if you will only say yes. Oh, papa, _do please_ let me go, _won't_ you?"

Her tone was very coaxing, and her eyes pleaded as earnestly as hertongue. 

He seemed to be considering for a moment, and she watched his faceeagerly, trying to read in it what his answer would be. 

At length it came, gently, but firmly spoken, "No, daughter, you cannotgo. I do not at all approve of the plan. "

Elsie did not utter another word, of remonstrance or entreaty, for sheknew it would be useless; but the disappointment was very great, and twoor three tears rolled quickly down her cheeks. 

Her father looked at her a moment in some surprise, and then said, speaking in a low tone, and very gravely, "This will never do, mydaughter. Go up to my room and stay there until you can be quitecheerful and pleasant; then you may come down again. "

Elsie hurried out of the room, the tears coming thick and fast now, andalmost ran against Edward in the hall. 

"Why, what is the matter, my dear?" he asked in a tone of surprise andalarm, laying his hand on her shoulder to detain her. 

"Please don't ask me, Mr. Edward. Please let me go, " she sobbed, breakingaway from him and rushing up the stairs. 

He stood for an instant looking after her, then turning to go back to theparlor, encountered Rose, who was just coming out. 

"What ails her?" he asked. 

"I don't know. Something that passed between her and her father. I rathersuspect he sent her upstairs as a punishment. "

"Pshaw! I've no patience with him. The dear little thing! I don't believeshe deserved it. "

Rose made no reply, but glided up-stairs, and he returned to the parlorto finish the discussion with Mr. Dinsmore. 

In the meantime Elsie had shut herself into her father's room, where sheindulged for a few moments in a hearty cry, which seemed to do her agreat deal of good. But presently she wiped away her tears, bathed hereyes, and sat down by the window. 

"What a silly little girl I am, " she said to herself, "to be crying justbecause I can't have my own way, when I know it will not alter papa'sdetermination in the least; and when I know, too, that I have alwaysfound his way the best in the end! Oh, dear, I have quite disgracedmyself before Miss Rose and her mother, and the rest, and vexed papa, too! I wish I could be good and then I might be down-stairs with theothers, instead of alone up here. Well, papa said I might come down againas soon as I could be pleasant and cheerful, and I think I can now, andthere is the tea-bell. "

She ran down just in time to take her place with the others. She raisedher eyes to her father's face as he drew her chair up closer to thetable. The look seemed to ask forgiveness and reconciliation, and theanswering smile told that it was granted; and the little heart boundedlightly once more, and the sweet little face was wreathed in smiles. 

Sophy and Harold were watching her from the other side of the table, andtheir hopes rose high, for they very naturally concluded from her beamingcountenance that she had carried her point, and they would all be allowedto go to the strawberry party next day. 

Their disappointment was proportionally great, when, after supper, Elsietold them what her father's answer had really been. 

"How provoking!" they both exclaimed; "why, you looked so pleased we weresure he had said yes; and we had quite set our hearts on it. "

"What is the matter?" asked Richard, who had just come up to them. 

They explained. 

"Ah! so that was what you were crying about this afternoon, eh?" he said, pinching Elsie's cheek. 

"Did you really, Elsie?" asked Sophy, in surprise. 

Elsie blushed deeply, and Richard said, "Oh, never mind; I dare say we'veall cried about more trifling things than that in our day. Let's have agood game of romps out here on the lawn. Come, what shall it be, Elsie?"

"I don't care, " she replied, struggling to keep down an inclination tocry again. 

"Puss wants a corner, " suggested Harold; "trees for corners. "

"Here goes, then!" cried Richard. "Sophy, you stand here; Elsie, you takethat tree yonder. Here, Fred and May, you can play, too. One here andanother there: and now I'll be the puss. "

So the game commenced, and very soon every disappointment seemed to beforgotten, and they were all in the wildest spirits. 

But after a while, as one romping game succeeded another, Elsie began togrow weary, and seeing that her father was sitting alone upon the piazza, she stole softly to his side, and putting her arm round his neck, laidher cheek to his. 

He passed his arm around her waist and drew her to his knee. 

"Which was my little daughter doubting this afternoon, " he asked gently, as he laid her head against his breast; "papa's wisdom or his love?"

"I don't know, papa; please don't ask me. I'm very sorry and ashamed, "she said, hanging her head and blushing deeply. 

"I should be very happy, " he said, "if my little girl could learnto trust me so entirely that she would always be satisfied with mydecisions--always believe that my reasons for refusing to gratify herare good and sufficient, even without having them explained. "

"I do believe it, papa, and I am quite satisfied now, " she murmured. "Idon't want to go at all. Please forgive me, dear papa. "

"I will, daughter; and now listen to me. I know that you are not verystrong, and I think that a walk of two miles or more in this hot Junesun, to say nothing of stooping for hours afterwards picking berries, exposed to its rays, would be more than you could bear without injury;and if you want strawberries to eat, you may buy just as many as youplease, and indeed you can get much finer ones in that way than youcould find in any field. You need not tell me it is the fun you want, and not the berries, " he said, as she seemed about to interrupt him, "Iunderstand that perfectly; but I know it would not be enough to pay youfor the trouble and fatigue. 

"And now to show you that your father does not take pleasure in thwartingyou, but really loves to see you happy, I will tell you what we have beenplanning. Miss Rose and her brothers tell me there is a very pretty placea few miles from here where strawberries and cream can be had; and we aregoing to make up a family party to-morrow, if the weather is favorable, and set out quite early in the morning in carriages. Mrs. Allison willprovide a collation for us to carry along--to which we will add theberries and cream after we get there--and we will take books to read, and the ladies will have their work, and the little girls their dolls, and we will spend the day in the woods. Will not that be quite aspleasant as going with the school-children?"

The little arm had been stealing round his neck again while he wastelling her all this, and now hugging him tighter and tighter, shewhispered: "Dear papa, you are very kind to me, and it makes me feelso ashamed of my naughtiness. I always find in the end that your way isbest, and then I think I will never want my own way again, but the verynext time it is just the same thing over. Oh, papa, you will not get outof patience with me, and quit loving me, and doing what is best for me, because I am foolish enough to wish for what is not?"

"No, darling, never. I shall always do what seems to me to be for yourgood, even in spite of yourself. I who have so often been guilty ofmurmuring against the will of my heavenly Father, who, I well know, is infinite in wisdom and goodness, ought to be very patient with yourdistrust of a fallible, short-sighted earthly parent. But come, darling, we will go up-stairs; we have just time for a few moments together beforeyou go to bed. "

On going to their bedroom after leaving her father, Elsie found Sophiealready there, impatiently waiting to tell her of the plan for themorrow, which she had just learned from Richard. 

She was a little disappointed to find that it was no news to Elsie, butsoon got over that, and was full of lively talk about the pleasure theywould have. 

"It will be so much pleasanter, " she said, "than going berrying withthose school-children, for I dare say we would have found it hot andtiresome walking all that distance in the sun; so I'm right glad now thatyour father said no, instead of yes. Aren't you, Elsie?"

"Yes, " Elsie said with a sigh. 

Sophy was down on the floor, pulling off her shoes and stockings. "Why, what's the matter?" she asked, stopping with her shoe in her hand to lookup into Elsie's face, which struck her as unusually grave. 

"Nothing, only I'm so ashamed of crying when papa said I shouldn't go, "Elsie answered, with a blush. "Dear papa! I always find he knows best, and yet I'm so often naughty about giving up. "

"Never mind, it wasn't much. I wouldn't care about it, " said Sophy, tossing away her shoe, and proceeding to pull off the stocking. 

Chloe whispered in Elsie's ear, "Massa not vexed wid you, darlin'?"

Elsie smiled and shook her head. "No, mammy, not now. "

The little girls were awake unusually early the next morning, and thefirst thing they did was to run to the window to ascertain the state ofthe weather. It was all they could desire; a little cooler than theday before, but without the slightest appearance of rain; so the youngfaces that surrounded the breakfast table were very bright and happy. 

The carriages were at the door very soon after they left the table. Itdid not take many minutes to pack them, and then they set off all in highglee; more especially the little ones. 

Everything passed off well; there was no accident, all were in goodhumor, the children on their best behavior, and they found thestrawberries and cream very fine; so that when the day was over, it was unanimously voted a decided success. 

A few days after this the children were again in their favorite spot downby the brook. They were sitting on the grass talking, for it was almosttoo warm to play. 

"How nice and cool the water looks!" remarked Sophy, "Let's pull off ourshoes and stockings, and hold up our dresses and wade about in it. Itisn't at all deep, and I know it would feel so good and cool to ourfeet. "

"Bravo! that's a capital idea!" cried Harold, beginning at once to divesthimself of his shoos and stockings; then rolling his pantaloons up to hisknees he stepped in, followed by Sophy, who had made her preparationswith equal dispatch. 

"Come, Elsie, aren't you going to get in, too?" she asked, for Elsiestill sat on the bank making no movement towards following their example. 

"I should like to, very much; but I don't know whether papa would approveof it. "

"Why, what objection could he have? it can't do us any harm, for I'm surewe couldn't drown if we tried, " said Harold. "Come now, Elsie, don't beso silly. I wouldn't ask you to do anything your papa had forbidden, buthe never said you shouldn't wade in the brook, did he?"

"No, he never said anything about it, " she answered, smiling, "for Inever thought of doing such a thing before. "

"Come, Elsie, do, " urged Sophy; "it is such fun;" and at length Elsieyielded, and was soon enjoying the sport as keenly as the others. 

But after a while they grew tired of wading, and began to amusethemselves by sailing bits of bark and leaves on the water. Then Haroldproposed building a dam; and altogether they enjoyed themselves sothoroughly, that they quite forgot how time was passing until thelengthening shadows warned them that it was long past their usual hourfor returning home. 

"Oh, we must make haste home, " exclaimed Harold suddenly; "it can't bevery far from tea-time, and mamma won't like it if we are late. "

They hurried out of the water, dried their feet as well as they could, put on their shoes and stockings, and started on a run for the house. 

But they had not gone more than half-way when Elsie cried out that shehad lost her rings. 

"Those beautiful rings! Oh, dear! where did you lose them?" asked Sophy. 

"I don't know at all; I just missed them this minute, and I am afraidthey are in the brook;" and Elsie turned and ran back as fast as shecould; followed by the others. 

"We'll all hunt, " said Harold, kindly, "and I guess we'll find them; sodon't cry, Elsie;" for the little girl was looking much distressed. 

"O Elsie, I'm afraid your papa will be very angry; and perhaps whip youvery hard, " exclaimed Sophy; "they were such pretty rings. "

"No, he won't whip me; he never did in his life, " replied Elsie quickly, "and he has often told me he would never punish me for an accident, eventhough it should cost the loss of something very valuable. But I am verysorry to lose my rings, because, besides being pretty, and worth a gooddeal of money, they were presents, one from papa, and the other from Mr. Travilla. "

"But, Elsie, I thought your papa was awfully strict, and punished you forevery little thing, "

"No; for _disobedience_, but not for accidents. "

They searched for some time, looking all about the part of the streamwhere they had been playing, and all over the bank, but without findingthe rings; and at last Elsie gave it up, saying it would not do to stayany longer, and they could look again to-morrow. 

"O Elsie!" cried Sophy, as they were starting again for home, "you musthave got your dress in the water, and then on the ground, for it is allmuddy. "

"Oh, dear!" sighed Elsie, examining it, "how very dirty and slovenly Imust look; and that will vex papa, for he can't bear to see me untidy. Can't we get in the back way, Sophy? so that I can get a clean dress onbefore he sees me? I don't mean to _deceive_ him. I will tell him allabout it afterwards, but I know he wouldn't like to see me looking so. "

"Yes, to be sure, " Sophy said in reply; "we can go in at the side door, and run up the back stairs. "

"And we may be in time for tea yet, if papa is as late getting home as heis sometimes, " remarked Harold; "so let us run. "

Mr. Allison was late that evening, as Harold had hoped, and tea was stillwaiting for him, as they learned from a servant whom they met in passingthrough the grounds: but when they reached the porch upon which the sidedoor opened, they found, much to their surprise and chagrin, that theladies were seated there with their work, and Mr. Dinsmore was reading tothem. 

He looked up from his book as they approached, and catching sight of hislittle girl's soiled dress, "Why, Elsie, " he exclaimed, in a mortifiedtone, "can that be you? such a figure as you are! Where have you been, child, to get yourself in such a plight?"

"I was playing in the brook, papa, " she answered in a low voice, andcasting down her eyes, while the color mounted to her hair. 

"Playing in the brook! that is a new business for you, I think. Well, runup to Aunt Chloe, and tell her I want you made decent with all possiblehaste or you will be too late for tea. But stay, " he added as she wasturning to go, "you have been crying; what is the matter?"

"I have lost my rings, papa, " she said, bursting into tears. 

"Ah! I am sorry, more particularly because it distresses you, though. Butwhere did you lose them, daughter?"

"I don't know, papa, but I am afraid it was in the brook. "

"Ah, yes! that comes of playing in the water. I think you had better keepout of it in the future: but run up and get dressed, and don't cry anymore; it is not worth while to waste tears over them. "

Elsie hurried upstairs, delivered her father's message, and Chloeimmediately set to work, and exerting herself to the utmost, soon hadher nursling looking as neat as usual. 

Rose had followed the little girls upstairs, and was helping Sophy todress. 

"Dere now, darlin'; now I tink you'll do, " said Chloe, giving the glossyhair a final smooth. "But what's de matter? what my chile been cryin''bout?"

"Because, mammy, I lost my rings in the brook, and I'm afraid I willnever find them again. "

"No such ting, honey! here dey is safe an' sound, " and Chloe opened alittle jewel-box that stood on the toilet-table, and picking up therings, slipped them upon the finger of the astonished and delightedchild; explaining as she did so, that she had found them on the bureauwhere Elsie must have laid them before going out, having probably takenthem off to wash her hands after eating her dinner. 

Elsie tripped joyfully downstairs. "See, papa! see!" she cried holding upher hand before him, "they were not lost, after all. Oh, I am so glad!aren't you, papa?"

"Yes, my dear, and now I hope you will be more careful in future. "

"I will try, papa; but must I never play in the brook any more? I like itso much. "

"No, I don't like to forbid it entirely, because I remember how much Iused to enjoy such things myself at your age. But you must not stay intoo long, and must be careful not to go in when you are heated withrunning, and always remember to dip your hands in first. And anotherthing, you must not stay out so late again, or you may give trouble. Youmust always be ready at the usual hour, or I shall have to say you mustsup on bread and water. "

"Oh! I think that would be rather too hard, Mr. Dinsmore, " interposedMrs. Allison, "and I hope you will not compel me to be so inhospitable. "

"I hope there is not much danger that I shall ever have to put my threatinto execution, Mrs. Allison, for it is not often that Elsie is twiceguilty of the same fault; one talking generally does her, " he answeredwith an affectionate glance at his little daughter. 

"Then I call her a very good child, " remarked the lady emphatically; "itis no unusual thing for mine to require telling half a dozen times. Butwalk in to tea, " she added, folding up her work. "Ah! Sophy, I am gladto see you looking neat again. I think you were in no better plight thanElsie when you came in. "

For some time after this, the young people were very careful to come infrom their play in good season; but one afternoon they had taken a longerwalk than usual, going farther down their little brook, and establishingthemselves in a new spot where they imagined the grass was greener, andthe shade deeper. The day was cloudy, and they could not judge of thetime so well as when they could see the sun, and so it happened that theystayed much later than they should have done. 

Elsie was feeling a little anxious, and had once or twice proposedgoing home, but was always overruled by Harold and Sophy, who insistedthat it was not at all late. But at length Elsie rose with an air ofdetermination, saying she was sure it _must_ be getting late, and ifthey would not go with her, she must go alone. 

"Well, then, we will go, and I guess it's about time, " said Harold; "socome along, Soph, or we'll, leave you behind. "

Elsie hurried along with nervous haste, and the others had to exertthemselves to keep up with her, but just as they reached the door thetea-bell rang. 

The children exchanged glances of fright and mortification. 

"What shall we do?" whispered Elsie. 

"Dear! if we were only dressed!" said Sophy. "Let's go in just as we are;maybe no one will notice. "

"No, " replied Elsie, shaking her head, "that would never do for me; papawould see it in a moment and send me away from the table. It would beworse than waiting to dress. "

"Then we will all go upstairs and make ourselves decent, and afterwardstake the scolding as well as we can, " said Harold, leading the way. 

Chloe was in Sophy's room, waiting to attend to her child. She did notfret the little girl with lamentations over her tardiness, but set aboutadjusting her hair and dress as quickly as possible. 

Elsie looked troubled and anxious. 

"Papa will be very much vexed, and ashamed of me, too, I am afraid, " shesaid with tears in her eyes. "And, Sophy, what will your mamma say? Oh!how I wish I had come in sooner!"

"Never mind, " replied Sophy; "mamma won't be very angry, and we'll tellher the sun wouldn't shine, and so how were we to know the time. "

Elsie was ready first, but waited a moment for Sophy, and they went downtogether. Her first sensation on entering the room and seeing that herfather's chair was empty, was certainly one of relief. When her eyesought Mrs. Allison's face, it was quite as pleasant as usual. 

"You are rather late, little girls, " she said in a cheerful tone, "but asyou are usually so punctual, we will have to excuse you this once. Come, take your places. "

"It was cloudy, you know, mamma, and we couldn't see the sun, " saidHarold, who was already at the table. 

"Very well, Harold, you must try to guess better next time. Rose, helpElsie to some of that omelet and a bit of the cold tongue. "

"No, thank you, ma'am; papa does not allow me to eat meat at night, " saidthe little girl resolutely, turning her eyes away from the tempting dish. 

"Ah! I forgot, but you can eat the omelet, dear, " Mrs. Allison said;"and help her to the honey, and a piece of that cheese, Rose, and putsome butter on her plate. "

It cost Elsie quite a struggle, for she was as fond of good things asother children, but she said firmly, "No, thank you, ma'am, I should likethe omelet, and the honey and the cheese too, very much, but as I waslate to-night, I can only have dry bread, because you know my papa saidso. "

Harold spoke up earnestly. "But, mamma, it wasn't her fault; she wantedto come home in time, and Sophy and I wouldn't. "

"No, mamma, it wasn't her fault at all, " said Sophy, eagerly, "and so sheneedn't have just bread, need she?"

"No, Elsie dear, I think not. Do, dear child, let me help you tosomething; here's a saucer of berries and cream; won't you take it?I feel quite sure your papa would not insist upon the bread and waterif he were here, and I am sorry he and Edward happen to be away to tea. "

"As it was not your fault, Elsie dear, I think you might venture, " saidRose, kindly. "I wouldn't want you to disobey your papa, but under thecircumstances, I don't think that it would be disobedience. "

"You are very kind, Miss Rose, but you don't know papa as well as I do, "Elsie replied, a little sadly. "He told me I must always be in in time tobe ready for tea, and he says nothing excuses disobedience; and you knowI could have come in without the others; so I feel quite sure I shouldget nothing but bread for my supper if he were here. "

"Well, dear, I am very sorry, but if you think it is really your duty tosup on dry bread, we will all honor you for doing it, " Mrs. Allison said. 

And then the matter dropped, and Elsie quietly ate her slice of bread anddrank a little cold water, then went out to play on the lawn with theothers. 

"Did you ever see such a perfectly conscientious child?" said Mrs. Allison to Rose. "Dear little thing! I could hardly stand it to see hereating that dry bread, when the rest were enjoying all the luxuries ofthe table. "

"No, mamma, it fairly made my heart ache. I shall tell her father allabout it when he comes in. Don't you think, mamma, he is rather toostrict and particular with her?"

"I don't know, Rose, dear; I'm afraid she is much better trained thanmine; and he certainly is very fond of her, and quite indulgent in somerespects. "

"Fond of her! yes, indeed he is, and she loves him with her whole heart. Ah! mamma, you don't know how glad it makes me to see it. The poor littlething seemed to be literally famishing for love when I first knew her. "

When Elsie had done anything which she knew would displease her father, she never could rest satisfied until she had confessed it and beenforgiven. Through all her play that evening she was conscious of aburden on her heart; and every now and then her eyes were turnedwistfully in the direction from which she expected him to come. Butthe clock struck eight, and there were no signs of his approach, andsoon it was half-past, and she found she must go to bed without seeinghim. She sighed several times while Chloe was undressing her, and justas she was about leaving her, said, "If papa comes home before I go tosleep, mammy, please ask him to let me come to him for one minute. "

"I will, darlin'; but don't you try for to stay awake; kase maybe massaain't gwine be home till berry late, an' den he might be vexed wid you. "

It was nearly ten o'clock when Mr. Dinsmore returned, and he wastalking on the piazza with Mr. And Miss Allison for nearly half anhour afterwards; but Chloe was patiently waiting for him, and meetinghim in the hall on the way to his room, presented Elsie's request. 

"Yes, " he said, "see if she is awake, but don't disturb her if she isnot. "

Chloe softly opened the door, and the little girl started up, asking inan eager whisper, "Did he say I might come, mammy?"

"Yes, darlin', " said Chloe, lifting her in her arms and setting herdown on the floor. And then the little fairy-like figure in its whitenight-dress stole softly out into the hall, and ran with swift, noiselesssteps across it, and into the open door of Mr. Dinsmore's room. 

He caught her in his arms and kissed her several times with passionatefondness. Then sitting down with her on his knee, he asked tenderly, "What does my darling want with papa to-night?"

"I wanted to tell you that I was very naughty this afternoon, and didn'tget home until just as the tea-bell rang. "

"And you were very glad to find that papa was not here to make you supupon bread and water, eh?"

"No, papa, I didn't eat anything else, " she said in a hurt tone; "Iwouldn't take such a mean advantage of your absence. "

"No, dearest, I know you would not. I know my little girl is the soulof honor, " he said, soothingly, pressing another kiss on her cheek;"and besides, I have just heard the whole story from Miss Rose and hermother. "

"And you _wouldn't_ have let me have anything but bread, papa, wouldyou?" she asked, raising her head to look up in his face. 

"No, dear, nothing else, for you know I must keep my word, however tryingit may be to my feelings. "

"Yes, papa; and I am so glad you do, because then I always know just whatto expect. You are not angry with me now, papa?"

"No, darling, not in the very least; you are entirely forgiven. And now Iwant you to go back to your bed, and try to get a good night's sleep, andbe ready to come to me in the morning. So good-night, my pet, my preciousone. God bless and keep my darling. May He ever cause His face to shineupon you, and give you peace. "

He held her to his heart a moment, then let her go: and she glided backto her room, and laid her head on her pillow to sleep sweetly, and dreamhappy dreams of her father's love and tenderness. 

She was with him again the next morning, an hour before it was time forthe breakfast-bell to ring, sitting on his knee beside the open window, chatting and laughing as gleefully as the birds were singing on the treesoutside. 

"What do you think of this?" he asked, laying an open jewel-case in herlap. 

She looked down, and there, contrasting so prettily with the dark bluevelvet lining, lay a beautiful gold chain and a tiny gold watch set withpearls all around its edge. 

"Oh, papa!" she cried, "is it for me?"

"Yes, my pet. Do you like it?"

"Indeed I do, papa! it is just as lovely as it can be!" she said, takingit up and turning it about in her hands. "It looks like mamma's, onlybrighter, and newer; and this is a different kind of chain from hers. "

"Yes, that is entirely new; but the watch is the one she wore. It is anexcellent one, and I have had it put in order for her daughter to wear. I think you are old enough to need it now, and to take proper care ofit. "

"I shall try to, indeed. Dear, darling mamma! I would rather have herwatch than any other, " she murmured, a shade of tender sadness comingover her face for a moment. Then, looking up brightly, "Thank you, papa, "she said, giving him a hug and a kiss; "it was so kind in you to do it. Was that what you went to the city for yesterday?"

"It was my principal errand there. "

"And now how sorry and ashamed I should be if I had taken advantage ofyour absence to eat all sorts of good things. "

"I think we are never sorry for doing our duty, " her father said, softlystroking her hair, "and I think, too, that my little girl quite deservesthe watch. "

"And I'm _so_ glad to have it!" she cried, holding it up, and gazing atit with a face full of delight. "I must run and show it to Sophy!"

She was getting down from his knee; but he drew her back. "Wait a little, daughter; I have something to tell you. "

"What, papa?"

"We have paid our friends a very long visit, and I think it is time forus to go, if we would not have them grow weary of us: so I have decidedto leave Elmgrove to-morrow. "

"Have you, papa? I like to travel, but I shall be so sorry to leaveSophy, and Miss Rose, and all the rest; they are so kind, and I have hadsuch a pleasant time with them. "

"I have told you the bad news first, " he said, smiling; "now I have somegood. We are going to take a trip through New England and the State ofNew York; and Miss Rose and Mr. Edward have promised to accompany us: soyou see you will not have to part with them just yet. "

Elsie clapped her hands at this piece of good news. 

"O papa, how pleasant it will be! Dear, _dear_ Miss Rose; I am so gladshe is going. "

"And Mr. Edward?"

"Yes, papa, I like him too, but I love Miss Rose the best of all. Don'tyou, papa?"

Her father only smiled, and said "Miss Rose was very lovely, certainly. "

The breakfast-bell rang, and she ran down, eager to show her watch. Itwas much admired by all; but there was great lamentation, especiallyamongst the younger members of the family, when it was announced thattheir guests were to leave them so soon. 

"Why couldn't Elsie stay always?" they asked. "Why couldn't she live withthem? they would only be too glad to have her. "

Mr. Dinsmore laughed, and told them he could not possibly spare Elsie, for she was his only child, and he had no one else to share his home. 

"But you may stay too, Mr. Dinsmore, " said Sophy; "there's plenty ofroom, and mamma and Rose like to have you read to them. "

Rose blushed, and shook her head at Sophy, and Mr. Dinsmore replied thatit would be very pleasant to live at Elmgrove, but that Elsie and he hada home of their own to which they must soon return, and where she wouldbe very glad to receive a visit from any or all of them. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

"Have you arranged your plans in regard to what places you will visitand in what order you will take them?" asked Mr. Allison, addressing Mr. Dinsmore. 

"We have not, " he replied; "that is, not very definitely; only that wewill visit New England and New York. "

"Elsie looks as if she could make a suggestion, " remarked Miss Rose, witha smiling glance at the bright, animated face of the little girl. 

"I should like to if I were old enough, " said the child, dropping hereyes and blushing as she perceived that at that moment she was the objectof the attention of every one at the table. 

"We will consider you so, my dear, " laughed Mr. Allison. "Come, give usthe benefit of your ideas. "

Still Elsie hesitated till her father said pleasantly, "Yes, daughter, let us have them. We can reject or adopt them as we see fit. "

"Yes, papa, " she returned. "I was just thinking that Valley Forge andPaoli are both in this State, and I should like very much to see themboth. "

"I call that a very good idea, " said Mr. Edward Allison. "I have alwaysintended to visit those historical places, but have never done so yet. "

"Then let us go, " said Rose, "for I, too, should like very much to seethem; if the plan suits you, Mr. Dinsmore, " she added, giving him asmiling glance. 

"Perfectly, " he said; "it will be a new and interesting experience to me, as I have never visited either spot, though quite familiar with theirhistory, as doubtless you all are. "

"Then we may consider that matter as settled, " remarked Edward withsatisfaction. 

Elsie hardly knew whether to be more glad or sorry when the time came forthe final leave-taking; but the joyful thought that Miss Rose was toaccompany them fairly turned the scale in favor of the former feeling;and though she brushed away a tear or two at parting from Sophy, she setoff with a bright and happy face. 

They spent several weeks most delightfully in travelling about from placeto place, going first to Valley Forge--a little valley so called becausea man named Isaac Potts had a forge there on a creek which empties intothe Schuylkill River. He was an extensive iron manufacturer. The valleyis a deep, short hollow, seemingly scooped out from a low, ruggedmountain. 

The Americans had their camp on a range of hills back of the village, Washington his quarters at the house of Isaac Potts. It was a stonebuilding standing near the mouth of the creek. Our friends were invitedin by a cheerful old lady living there, and shown Washington's room. Itwas very small, but they found it interesting. The old lady took theminto it, and, leading-the way to an east window, said: "From hereWashington could look to those slopes yonder and see a large part of hiscamp. " Then, lifting a blue sill, she showed a little trap-door andbeneath it a cavity, which she said had been arranged by Washington asa hiding place for his papers. 

On leaving that house, our little party went to view the ruins of an oldflour-mill near by. 

"This was going in those revolutionary days, " said the old lady, who wasstill with them, "and soon after the battle of Brandywine, before theencampment in this valley, the Americans had a large quantity of storeshere in this mill. Washington heard that the British General Howe hadsent troops to destroy them, and he sent some of his men, under AlexanderHamilton and Captain Henry Lee, to get ahead of the British; which theydid. Knowing there was danger of a surprise, they had a flat-bottomedboat ready to cross the river in, and two videttes out on the hill to thesouth yonder"--pointing with her finger. "Well, the soldiers had crossedthe river and were just going to begin the work they had come to do, whenthe guns of the videttes were heard, and they were seen running down thehill with the British close after them. Lee, the videttes, and four ofthe other men ran across the bridge--the enemy sending a shower ofbullets after them--while the others, with Hamilton, took to the boat. They were fired upon too, but got away safely. The two parties had gotseparated, and neither one knew just how the other had fared. Lee sent anote to Washington telling his fears for Hamilton and his men; and whileWashington was reading it Hamilton rode up with a face full of distress, and began telling the general his fears for Lee; then Washington relievedhim by handing him Lee's note to read. "

Our party thanked the old lady for her story, and Mr. Dinsmore asked whatmore there was to see. 

"There's an observatory over yonder on that south hill, " she said, pointing to it. "It was there a large part of the American army wasquartered--on the hill, I mean. If you go up to the top of the buildingyou can see a good deal of the camping ground from it. "

"Thank you, " he returned, slipping a silver dollar into her hand. "Weare all greatly obliged for your kindness in showing us about thisinteresting place and refreshing our memories in regard to its history. "

The others thanked her also; then taking a carriage they drove to theobservatory she had pointed out. 

They were told that it stood on the spot where Washington's marquee wasplaced on his arrival at Valley Forge. It was a neat octagonal structureabout forty feet high, with a spiral staircase in the centre leading upto an open gallery on the top. They went up, and found it gave them afine view of the greater part of what had been the camping ground. "Ourtroops came here from Whitemarsh, if my memory serves me right, " saidEdward Allison. 

"Yes, " assented Mr. Dinsmore. "It was Washington's decision that theyshould do so, as here he would be near enough to watch the movements ofthe British army, then in possession of Philadelphia. He wished, for onething, to keep the foraging parties in check, protecting the people fromtheir depredations. "

"Wasn't it in the winter they were here, papa?" asked Elsie. 

"Yes; and the poor fellows found it terribly cold; especially for men sopoorly provided as they were with what are esteemed by most civilizedpeople as the barest necessities of life--food, clothing, shoes, andblankets. "

"Yes, I remember reading about it--how their poor feet bled on the groundas they marched over it, with neither shoes nor stockings, " said Elsie, tears springing to her eyes as she spoke. "And didn't they suffer fromhunger too, papa?"

"Yes, they did, poor fellows!" he sighed. "They endured a great deal inthe hope of winning freedom for themselves, their children, and theircountry. They had not even material to raise their beds from the ground, and in consequence many sickened and died from the dampness. "

"It is really wonderful how they bore it all, " said Edward. "Theycertainly must have been true and ardent patriots. "

"We were told that Washington's marquee stood just here in that time, "said Elsie. "What did he want with it when he had a room in Mr. Potts'house?"

"He occupied the marquee only while his men were building their huts, "explained her father, "then afterward took up his quarters in thathouse. "

Our party now returned to their carriage and drove to Paoli--some ninemiles distant. They were told that the place of the massacre was abouta quarter of a mile from the highway, and leaving their vehicle at thenearest point, they followed a path leading through open fields till theycame to the monument. They found it a blue clouded marble pedestal, surmounted by a white marble pyramid, standing over the broad grave inwhich lie the remains of the fifty-three Americans found in that fieldthe morning after the massacre, and buried by the neighboring farmers. 

"Papa, " said Elsie, "won't you please go over the story?"

"If a short rehearsal will not be unpleasant to our friends, " he answeredkindly. 

Both Rose and Edward assured him they would be glad to listen to it, andhe at once began. 

"It was but a few days after the battle of Brandywine that Wayne was herewith about fifteen hundred men and four pieces of cannon, Washingtonhaving given him directions to annoy the enemy's rear and try to cut offhis baggage train. This place was some two or three miles southwest ofthe British lines, away from the public roads, and at that time coveredwith a forest. 

"But for the treachery of a Tory the British would have known nothing ofthe whereabouts of these patriots who were struggling to free theircountry from unbearable oppression. But Howe, learning it all from theTory, resolved to attempt to surprise and slaughter the Americans. Hedespatched General Grey (who was afterwards a murderer and plunderer atTappan and along the New England coast) to steal upon the patriot camp atnight and destroy as many as he could. 

"Wayne heard that something of the kind was intended, but did not believeit. Still, he took every precaution; ordered his men to sleep on theirarms with their ammunition under their coats--to keep it dry I suppose, as the night was dark and stormy. 

"Grey and his men marched stealthily on them in the night, passingthrough the woods and up a narrow defile. It was about one o'clock in themorning that they gained Wayne's left. Grey was a most cruel wretch, called the no-flint general because of his orders to his soldiers to takethe flints from their guns; his object being to compel them to use thebayonet; his orders were to rush upon the patriots with the bayonet andgive no quarter. In that way, in the darkness and silence, they killedseveral of the pickets near the highway. 

"The patrolling officer missed these men, his suspicions were aroused, and he hastened with his news to Wayne's tent. Wayne at once paraded hismen, but unfortunately in the light of his fires, which enabled the enemyto see and shoot them down. Grey and his men came on in silence, but withthe fierceness of tigers; they leaped from the thick darkness upon theAmericans, who did not know from which quarter to expect them. TheAmericans fired several volleys, but so sudden and violent was the attackthat their column was at once broken into fragments, and they fled inconfusion. One hundred and fifty Americans were killed and wounded inthis assault. It is said that some of the wounded were cruelly butcheredafter surrendering and asking for quarter. But for Wayne's coolness andskill his whole command would have been killed or taken prisoners. Hequickly rallied a few companies, ordered Colonel Humpton to wheel theline, and with the cavalry and a part of the infantry successfullycovered a retreat. "

"Then did all who had not already been killed get away from the British, papa?" asked Elsie. 

"Not quite all; they captured between seventy and eighty men, taking, besides, a good many small arms, two pieces of cannon, and eightwagon-loads of baggage and stores. "

"Weren't some of the British killed?" she asked. 

"Only one captain and three privates; and four men were wounded. "

The story was finished, and having seen all there was to see inconnection with it, our travellers went on their way and pursued theirjourney, not feeling at all hurried, seeing all they wanted to see, andstopping to rest whenever they felt the need of it. Elsie enjoyed it allthoroughly. There was no abatement of the tender, watchful care herfather had bestowed upon her in their former journey, and added to thatwas the pleasant companionship of Miss Rose and her brother. 

Mr. Edward was very kind and attentive to both his sister and Elsie, always thinking of something to please them or add to their comfort; andboth he and Rose treated the little girl as though she were a dear, younger sister. 

Elsie was seldom absent from her father's side for many minutes, yetsometimes in their walks she found herself left to Mr. Edward's care, while Rose had Mr. Dinsmore's arm. But that did not trouble the littlegirl; for loving them both so dearly, she was very anxious that theyshould like each other; and then she could leave Mr. Edward and run toher papa whenever she pleased, sure of being always received with thesame loving smile, and not at all as though they felt that she was inthe way.