heavy
to sit here and play at being your own little girl again. What happy days
those were! when I had not a care or anxiety except to please my earthly
and my heavenly father."

"Would you like to go back to them?"

"No, dear father, your love and tender care made me a very happy child,
but I have no desire to retrace my steps. I should far rather press
forward to the heavenly home whither you are travelling with me--'the rest
that remaineth to the people of God,' rest from sin as well as from
sorrow, pain, and care."

"'Casting _all_ you care upon _Him_, for He careth for you.' He who ever
liveth; He who hath all power in heaven and in earth; He who has said, 'I
have loved thee with an everlasting love,' 'I will never leave thee nor
forsake thee.' Dear daughter, if cares and anxieties oppress you, ask
yourself what right a Christian has to be troubled with them."

"None, papa," she answered humbly; "I am thankful that I can say a belief
in His love and power prevents them from pressing very heavily, yet it is
my grief and shame that my faith is often too weak to lift the burden
entirely."

"What is the particular burden to-night?" he asked tenderly.

"My absent darlings, papa: my Elsie, now beginning with the cares of
married life, my eldest son exposed to I know not what dangers and
temptations."

"But with the very same Almighty Friend their mother has to watch over and
protect, to comfort and sustain them."

"Yes, papa! Oh, I ought not to have one anxious thought about them!"

"When such thoughts will arise, dear child, turn them into petitions on
their behalf, and believing in God's willingness to hear and answer
prayer, your heart may grow light.

"But this is not exactly what I came to talk about." Then he repeated the
substance of his conversation with Capt. Raymond, and asked what answer
she would give.

Her surprise was as great as her father's had been, and a look of sore
pain came into her face as she exclaimed, "Violet! my little Vi! must I
lose her too?"

"Perhaps not, dearest; it may be that she cares nothing for him. But you
need decide nothing to-night, and must try not to let the question keep
you awake."

For a moment she seemed lost in thought, then lifting to his, eyes
brimful of tears, "Papa," she said tremulously, "I cannot stand in the way
of my child's happiness, therefore I must let him speak, and learn from
her own lips whether she cares for him or not."

"Yes, I think you