n his forehead, "I have become such a silly
thing, that I actually enjoy obeying you,--when you don't order me as if
you thought I wouldn't do as you wish, and you meant to force me to it."

"Forgive me, love, that I have ever done it in that spirit," he said
remorsefully, and coloring deeply.

"Ned, I haven't any thing to forgive," she said, with sudden energy and
warmth of affection.

"Then you will obey about the air and exercise?" he asked, returning to
his playful tone.

"Presently, sir, when I have seen you eat something. It's time for that
now, according to the doctor's directions."

She rang for refreshment, saw him take it, then left him for a short
time in the care of old Aunt Phillis, while she donned riding hat and
habit, mounted her pony, and flew over several miles of road and back
again.

She seemed to bring a breath of fresh air with her when she returned to
his side.

"My darling," he said, smiling up at her, "how the roses glow on your
cheeks, and how bright your eyes are! Give me a kiss, and then sit down
close by my side."

"I obey both orders most willingly," she said merrily, as she bent down
and kissed him on lips and forehead and cheek, then took possession of
the chair she had vacated on leaving the room.

"Now, sir, what next?"

"Move your chair round a trifle, so that I can have a better view of
your face."

She smilingly obeyed. "There! does that satisfy your lordship?"

"Quite. Now talk to me."

"About what?"

"Any thing you please: the principal thing is to hear the music of your
voice."

"Suppose I sing, then."

"Yes, yes!" eagerly; "that's just what I should enjoy. Let it be, 'I
love to tell the story.'"

Zoe had a beautiful voice. Soft and sweet and clear it rose,--

"'I love to tell the story
Of unseen things above,
Of Jesus and his glory,
Of Jesus and his love.
I love to tell the story,
Because I know it's true:
It satisfies my longings
As nothing else can do.

"I love to tell the story:
'Twill be my theme in glory,
To tell the old, old story,
Of Jesus and his love.

"I love to tell the story:
More wonderful it seems,
Than all the golden fancies
Of all our golden dreams.
I love to tell the story,
It did so much for me;
And that is just the reason
I tell it now to thee.

"I love to tell the story;
'Tis pleasant to repeat
What seems, each time I tell it,
More wonderfully sweet.
I love to tell the story,
For some have n