ing of any indulgence."

Mr. Travilla looked exceedingly astonished. "Is it _possible_!" he
exclaimed. "Really, I have had such an exalted opinion of Elsie's
goodness, that I could not have credited such a charge from any one
but her father."

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

He paused for a moment, apparently quite overcome by his feelings, then
went 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 every
moment."

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 I
cannot 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 of
trouble," replied Mr. Dinsmore, trying to speak cheerfully; "but we will
leave 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 to
come again before long and stay a day or two. His kind heart was really
pained to learn that there was again a misunderstanding between his
little friend--as he had been in the habit of calling Elsie--and her
father; and as he rode home silently pondering the matter, he determined
that he would very soon fulfil his promise of paying a longer visit, for
he could not refrain from indulging a faint hope that he might be able to
accomplish something as mediator between them.

A few days after this, Elsie was passing down the hall. The doors and
windows were all open, for it was a warm spring day, and as she passed
the drawing-room door, she paused a moment and looked in. Her father sat
reading 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,