ttle Elsie: all her
troubles seemed to be over, and she was surrounded by everything that
heart could wish. Her father watched over her with the tenderest love
and care; devoting the greater part of his time to her entertainment and
instruction, sparing neither trouble nor expense to give her pleasure,
and though still requiring unhesitating, cheerful obedience to his wishes
and commands--yet ruling her not less gently than firmly. He never spoke
to her now in his stern tone, and after a while she ceased to expect and
dread it.

Her health improved quite rapidly after their removal to the Oaks, and
before Christmas came again she was entirely equal to a little stroll in
the grounds, or a short ride on her favorite pony.

Her cheeks were becoming round and rosy again, and her hair had grown
long enough to curl in soft, glossy little ringlets all over her head,
and her father thought her almost prettier than ever. But he was very
careful of her still, scarcely willing to have her a moment out of his
sight, lest she should become over-fatigued, or her health be injured
in some way; and he always accompanied her in her walks and rides, ever
watching over her with the most unwearied love. As her health and
strength returned he permitted her, in accordance with her own wishes,
gradually to resume her studies, and took great pleasure in instructing
her; but he was very particular to see that she did not attempt too much,
nor sit poring over her books when she needed exercise and recreation,
as she was sometimes rather inclined to do.

"Massa, dere's a gentleman wants to speak to you," said a servant,
looking in at the study door one afternoon a few days before Christmas.

"Very well, John, show him into the library, and I will be there in a
moment," replied Mr. Dinsmore, putting down his book.

He glanced at Elsie's little figure, half buried in the cushions of a
great easy-chair near one of the windows, into which she had climbed
more than an hour before, and where she had been sitting ever since,
completely lost to all that might be going on about her, in the deep
interest with which she was following the adventures of FitzJames in
Scott's "Lady of the Lake."

"Daughter, I am afraid you are reading more to-day than is quite good for
you," he said, looking at his watch. "You must put up your book very soon
now, and go out for a walk. I shall probably be down in ten or fifteen
minutes; but if I am not, you must not wait