with feelings half pleasurable, half
painful, that he listened to her.

It was certainly a relief to have her so unconscious of their
estrangement, and yet such an utter failure of memory distressed him
with fears of permanent and serious injury to her intellect; and thus
it was, with mingled hope and dread, that he looked forward to the
fulfilment of the doctor's prophecy that her memory would return.

She was growing stronger, so that she was able to be moved from her bed
to a couch during the day; and when she was very weary of lying, her
father would take her in his arms and carry her back and forth, or,
seating himself in a large rocking-chair, soothe her to sleep on his
breast, holding her there for hours, never caring for the aching of his
arms, but really enjoying the consciousness that he was adding to her
comfort by suffering a little himself.

Mrs. Travilla had some time since found it absolutely necessary to give
her personal attention to her own household, and Adelaide, quite worn out
with nursing, needed rest; and so, with a little help from Chloe, Mr.
Dinsmore took the whole care of his little girl, mixing and administering
her medicines with his own hand, giving her her food, soothing her in her
hours of restlessness, reading, talking, singing to her--exerting all his
powers for her entertainment, and never weary of waiting upon her. He
watched by her couch night and day; only now and then snatching a few
hours of sleep on a sofa in her room, while the faithful old nurse took
his place by her side.

One day he had been reading to Elsie, while she lay on her sofa.
Presently he closed the book, and looking at her, noticed that her eyes
were fixed upon his face with a troubled expression.

"What is it, dearest?" he asked.

"Papa," she said in a doubtful, hesitating way, "it seems as if I had
seen you before; have I, papa?"

"Why, surely, darling," he answered, trying to laugh, though he trembled
inwardly, "I have been with you for nearly two weeks, and you have seen
me every day."

"No, papa; but I mean before. Did I _dream_ that you gave me a doll once?
Were you ever vexed with me? Oh, papa, help me to think," she said in a
troubled, anxious tone, rubbing her hand across her forehead as she
spoke.

"Don't try to think, darling," he replied cheerfully, as he raised her,
shook up her pillows, and settled her more comfortably on them. "I am not
in the least vexed with you; there is nothing wrong, a