-I am _not_ holy--I am _vile_--oh, _so_ vile, so sinful! Shall
I ever see his face? how can I dare to venture into his presence!"

She spoke slowly, gaspingly--her voice sometimes sinking almost to a
whisper; so that, but for the death-like stillness of the room, her words
would scarcely have been audible.

Mrs. Travilla's tears were falling very fast, and it was a moment ere she
could command her voice to reply.

"My precious, _precious_ child," she said, "_He_ is able to save to the
_uttermost_. 'The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from _all_ sin.' He
will wash you in that precious fountain opened for sin, and for all
uncleanness. He will clothe you with the robe of his own righteousness,
and present you faultless before the throne of God, without spot or
wrinkle, or any such thing. _He_ has said it, and shall it not come
to pass, my darling? Yes, dear child, I am confident of this very thing,
that he who has begun a good work in you will perform it until the day
of Jesus Christ."

"Oh, yes, he will, I know he will. Precious Jesus! _my_ Saviour,"
murmured the little one, a smile of heavenly peace and joy overspreading
her features; and, closing: her eyes, she seemed to sleep, while
Adelaide, unable longer to control her feelings, stole softly from
the room, to seek a place where she might weep without restraint.

An hour later Adelaide sat alone by the bedside, Mrs. Travilla having
found it necessary to return to Ion for a few hours, while Chloe had gone
down to the kitchen to see to the preparation of some new delicacy with
which she hoped to tempt Elsie's failing appetite.

Adelaide had been sitting for some moments gazing sadly at the little
pale, thin face, so fair, so sad, yet so full of meekness and
resignation. Her eyes filled as she looked, and thought of all
that they feared.

"Elsie, darling! precious little one," she murmured in low, tremulous
tones, as she leant over the child in tender solicitude.

"Dear Aunt Adelaide, how kind you are to me," said the little girl,
opening her eyes and looking up lovingly into her aunt's face.

There was a sound of carriage-wheels.

"Is it my papa?" asked Elsie, starting and trembling.

Adelaide sprang to the window. No, it was only a kind neighbor, come to
inquire how the invalid was.

A look of keen disappointment passed over the expressive countenance of
the little girl--the white lids drooped over the soft eyes, and large
tears stole from beneath the lon