ing her to her heart;
"de good Lord take care ob my precious lamb, an' bring her back to her
ole mammy again, 'fore long."

Elsie shut herself into her own room on her return to Roselands, and was
not seen again that day by any one but her maid, until just at dusk
Adelaide rapped softly at her door.

Elsie's voice, in a low, tremulous tone, answered, "Come in," and
Adelaide entered.

The little girl was just in the act of closing her writing-desk, and her
aunt thought she had been weeping, but the light was so uncertain that
she might have been mistaken.

"My poor darling!" she said in low, pitiful accents, as, passing her arm
around the child's waist, she drew her down to a seat beside herself upon
the 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 aunt
soothingly, running her fingers through Elsie's soft curls.

"I know what has been the trial of to-day," she continued, still using
the same gentle, caressing tone, "for I, too, had a letter from your
papa, in which he told me what he had said to you. You have been to see
your new home. I have seen it several times and think it very lovely, and
some 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 your
decision has been; but I am hoping and praying that God may work the same
change in your father's views and feelings which has been lately wrought
in mine; and then he will love you all the better for your steadfast
determination to obey God rather than man."

"Oh, Aunt Adelaide! will it _ever_ be?" sighed the poor child; "the time
seems 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 much
as you do; but he thinks he is right in what he requires of you, and he
is so very determined, and so anxious to make a gay, fashionable woman
of you--cure you of those absurd, puritanical notions, as he expresses
it--that I fear he will never relent until his heart is changed; but God
is able to do that."

"Oh, Aunt Adelaide!" said the little girl mournfully, "pray for me, that
I may be enabled to wait patiently until that time shall come, and never
permitted to indulge rebellious feelings towards papa."

Adelaide kissed her softly. "Poor child!" she whispere