care-worn look, very different from its usual expression.

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

"What is the matter, Elsie?" she asked, putting her hand on the child's
shoulder 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 quite
enough 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 nothing
else, that ails him."

She turned away as she spoke, and poor Elsie, wringing her hands in an
agony 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. Travilla
was sitting there, until she was close beside him.

She turned then, and would have run away again, but he caught her by the
dress, 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 of
your 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 her
tears, and kissing her very much as her father had been in the habit of
doing.

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

"Poor child!" said Mr. Travilla again, "is there nothing I can do for
you? 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 and
are sorry for your fault, I am sure you have only to confess it, and ask
forgiveness, and all will be right again," he said kindly, drawing her
head down upon his breast, and smoothing back the curls from her flushed
and 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--it
is much more noble to acknowledge it and ask pardon, than to try to hi