feel that I am forgiven for my great fault, and
I will bless you every day that I live. Dear father, say yes. Your
penitent ELLEN."

Two angels stood behind the old man as he read this letter. He did not
see them, but he heard their voices as first one and then the other bent
and whispered in his ear.

"Listen," murmured the white angel with radiant moonlit wings. "Listen.
You loved her once so dearly. You love her still. I know you do."

"No," breathed the darker angel. "You swore that you would not forgive
her. Keep your word. You always said that she would come back as soon as
she was poor or unhappy, or that scamp treated her badly. It makes no
difference in the facts. Let her suffer; it serves her right."

"Remember what a dear child she used to be," said the fair angel, "so
bright, so loving. How she used to dance about the house and sing; the
sun seemed to shine always when she came into the room. She loved you
truly then. Her little warm arms were always about your neck. She loves
you still."

"What is love worth," came the other voice, "when it deceives and hurts
and betrays? All these long years you have suffered. It is her turn
now."

"Remember that it was partly your fault," whispered the spirit of good.
"You were harsh and stern. You did not appeal to her love, but to her
obedience. She had a high spirit; you forgot that. And she was only
sixteen."

"Quite old enough to know better," urged the spirit of evil. "Remember
the hard life you have led ever since. The neighbors speak of you as a
stern, cruel man; the little children run away when you appear. Whose
fault is that? Hers. She ought to pay for it."

"Think of the innocent child who never did you wrong, and who suffers
too. Think of the dear Lord who forgives your sins. Pray to him. He will
help you to forgive her,"--urged the good angel, but in fainter tones,
for the black angel spoke louder, and thrust between with his fierce
voice.

"The thing is settled. Why talk of prayer or pardon? Let her go her
way."

As this last whisper reached his ear the old man raised his bent head. A
hard, vindictive look was in his eyes. He seized the letter and tore it
in two. "Alas! alas!" sighed the sweet angel, while the evil one
rejoiced and waved his dark wings in triumph.

It was at this moment that Dickie, attracted by the rustle of paper,
appeared at the door. His eyes were beginning to droop a little. He
rubbed them hard as he crossed the entry. T