."

"What you deserve is not the question just now. This is one of the talents
which God has given you, and I think you ought, at least for the present,
to keep the principal and decide for yourself what shall be done with the
interest. You are old enough now to do so, and I hope do not wish to shirk
the responsibility, since God, in His good providence, has laid it upon
you."

He spoke very gravely and Elsie's face reflected the expression of his.

"No, I do not wish it now, papa," she said, in a low, sweet voice. "I
will undertake it, asking Him for wisdom and grace to do it aright."

They were busy for the next hour or two over the papers.

"There!" cried Elsie, at length, "we have examined the last one, and I
think I understand it all pretty thoroughly."

"I think you do. And now another thing; ought you not to go and see for
yourself your property in Louisiana?"

Elsie assented, on condition that he would take her.

"Certainly, my dear child, can you suppose I would ever think of
permitting you to go alone?"

"Thank you, papa. And if poor mammy objects this time, she may take her
choice of going or staying; but go I must, and see how my poor people are
faring at Viamede. I have dim, dreamy recollections of it as a kind of
earthly paradise. Papa, do you know why mammy has always been so
distressed whenever I talked of going there?"

"Painful associations, no doubt. Poor creature! it was there her
husband--an unruly negro belonging to a neighboring planter--was sold away
from her, and there she lost her children, one by accidental drowning, the
others by some epidemic disease. Your own mother, too, died there, and
Chloe I think never loved one of her own children better."

"No, I'm sure not. But she never told me of her husband and children, and
I thought she had never had any. And now, papa, that we are done with
business for the present, I have a request to make."

"Well, daughter, what is it?"

"That you will permit me to renew my old intimacy with Lucy Carrington; or
at least to call on her. You remember she was not well enough to be at the
wedding; she is here at Ashlands with her baby. Mr. and Mrs. Carrington
called here yesterday while you were out, and both urged me not to be
ceremonious with Lucy, as she is hardly well enough to make calls and is
longing to see me."

"And what answer did you give them?" he asked with some curiosity.

"That I should do so if possible; that meant if I could ob