CHAPTER XIV.
"Her world was ever joyous; She thought of grief and painAs giants in the olden time, That ne'er would come again."
MRS. HALE'S ALICE RAY.
"Then all was jollity,Feasting, and mirth."
ROWE'S JANE SHORE.
It was with a start, and a momentary feeling of perplexity as to herwhereabouts, followed almost instantly by the glad remembrance that shewas indeed at _home_, that the little Elsie awoke the next morning. Shesat up in the bed and gazed about her. Everything had a new, fresh look,and an air of simple elegance, that struck her as very charming.
A door on her right, communicating with her father's sleeping apartment,was slightly ajar, and she could hear him moving about.
"Papa!" she called, in her sweet, silvery tones.
"Good-morning, daughter," he said, appearing in answer to her summons."Why, how bright my little girl is looking this morning!"
"Yes, papa, I feel so well and strong I do believe I can walk to thedining-room. Please, may I get up now?"
"Yes; Aunt Chloe may dress you, and call me when you are ready," hereplied, bending down to give her a kiss.
Chloe was just coming in from a small adjoining room which had beenappropriated to her use, and exclaimed with delight at her darling'sbright looks.
"Dress her very nicely, Aunt Chloe," said Mr. Dinsmore, "for I think itis quite possible we may have visitors to-day; and besides, I want her tolook her best for my own enjoyment," he added, with a loving look andsmile directed toward his little girl.
Chloe promised to do her best; and he seemed entirely satisfied with theresult of her labors, as well he might, for Elsie looked very lovely inher simple white dress, and little embroidered pink sacque, which seemedto lend a faint tinge of color to her pale cheeks. She was tired, though,with the dressing, and quite willing to give up her plan of walking tothe dining-room, and let her father carry her.
After breakfast he sat with her on his knee for a little while, and then,laying her on the sofa and giving her a kiss, he told her he must leaveher with Chloe for an hour or two, as he had some business matters toarrange with her grandfather, after which he would take her to ride.
"I wish you didn't have to go, papa; but please come back as soon as youcan," she said coaxingly.
"I will, darling. And now, Aunt Chloe, I leave her in your care; don'tlet her do anything to tire herself," he said as he went out.
Elsie listened until she heard the sound of his horse's hoofs as hegalloped down the avenue, and then turning to her nurse, she exclaimedeagerly,
"Now, mammy, please hand me my work-box and that unfinished slipper."
"You's not fit to sew, darlin' chile," objected the careful old woman,doing as she was asked, nevertheless.
"Well, mammy, I want to try, and I'll stop directly if it tires me,"replied the little girl. "Please put me in my rocking-chair. They arefor papa, you see, and I want to get them done before Christmas."
"Dere's plenty ob time yet 'fore Christmas, darlin', to do dat littlebit," Chloe said; "'tain't comin' dis four or five weeks; better waittill you git stronger."
Elsie was not to be dissuaded, however, from making the attempt; buta very few moments' work satisfied her that she was still too weak forsuch an employment; and she readily consented to let Chloe put away herwork-box and lay her on her sofa again, where she spent the rest of thetime in reading her Bible until her father returned. Then came her ride,and then a nap, which took up all the morning until near dinner-time.
She found Mr. Travilla sitting there, talking with her father, when sheawoke. She was very glad to see him, and to hear that he was going tostay to dinner; and they had quite a little chat together about the newhome and its surroundings.
After dinner, her Aunt Adelaide, Lora, and Walter called to see them andthe house; but both they and Mr. Travilla went away early--he promisingto bring his mother to see her very soon--and then she was left alonewith her father again.
"Would you like now to hear the remainder of the story we were readingyesterday, daughter?" he asked.
"Very much, papa; I have been wanting it all day."
"Why did you not ask for it, then?" he inquired.
"Because, papa, I was ashamed, after being so naughty about ityesterday," she answered, hanging her head and blushing deeply.
"Well, you shall have it now, daughter," he said luridly, pressing hislips to the little blushing cheek. "I had forgotten about it, or I wouldhave given you the book to read while I was out this morning."
A very pleasant, happy life had now begun for our little Elsie: all hertroubles seemed to be over, and she was surrounded by everything thatheart could wish. Her father watched over her with the tenderest loveand care; devoting the greater part of his time to her entertainment andinstruction, sparing neither trouble nor expense to give her pleasure,and though still requiring unhesitating, cheerful obedience to his wishesand commands--yet ruling her not less gently than firmly. He never spoketo her now in his stern tone, and after a while she ceased to expect anddread it.
Her health improved quite rapidly after their removal to the Oaks, andbefore Christmas came again she was entirely equal to a little stroll inthe grounds, or a short ride on her favorite pony.
Her cheeks were becoming round and rosy again, and her hair had grownlong enough to curl in soft, glossy little ringlets all over her head,and her father thought her almost prettier than ever. But he was verycareful of her still, scarcely willing to have her a moment out of hissight, lest she should become over-fatigued, or her health be injuredin some way; and he always accompanied her in her walks and rides, everwatching over her with the most unwearied love. As her health andstrength returned he permitted her, in accordance with her own wishes,gradually to resume her studies, and took great pleasure in instructingher; 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 amoment," replied Mr. Dinsmore, putting down his book.
He glanced at Elsie's little figure, half buried in the cushions of agreat easy-chair near one of the windows, into which she had climbedmore 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 deepinterest with which she was following the adventures of FitzJames inScott's "Lady of the Lake."
"Daughter, I am afraid you are reading more to-day than is quite good foryou," he said, looking at his watch. "You must put up your book very soonnow, and go out for a walk. I shall probably be down in ten or fifteenminutes; but if I am not, you must not wait for me, but take Aunt Chloewith you."
"Yes, papa," she replied, looking up from her book for an instant, andthen returning to it again as he left the room.
She had not the least intention of disobeying, but soon forgot everythingelse in the interest of her story.
The stranger detained Mr. Dinsmore much longer than he had expected, andthe short winter day was drawing rapidly to a close when he returned tohis study, to find Elsie--much to his surprise and displeasure--preciselywhere he had left her.
She was not aware of his entrance until he was close beside her; then,looking up with a start, she colored violently.
He gently took the book from her hand and laid it away, then, lifting herfrom the chair, led her across the room, where he seated himself upon thesofa, and drawing her in between his knees, regarded her with a look ofgrave, sad displeasure.
"Has my little daughter any idea how long it is since her father bade herput up her book?" he asked in a gently reproving tone.
Elsie hung her head in silence, and a tear rolled quickly down herburning cheek.
"It grieves me very much," he said, "to find that my little girl can beso
disobedient! it almost makes me fear that she does not love me verymuch."
"Oh, papa, don't! oh, don't say that! I can't bear to hear it!" shecried, bursting into an agony of tears and sobs, and hiding her face onhis breast. "I do love you _very_ much, papa, and I can't bear to thinkI've grieved you," she sobbed. "I know I am very naughty, and deserveto be punished--but I didn't mean to disobey, only the book was sointeresting I didn't know at all how the time went."
He sighed, but said nothing; only drew her closer to him, pulling his armaround her, and stroking her hair in a gentle, caressing way.
There was no sound for some moments but Elsie's sobs.
Then she asked in a half whisper, "Are you going to punish me, papa?"
"I shall take the book from you for a few days; I hope that will bepunishment enough to make you pay better attention to my commands infuture," he said very gravely.
"Dear papa how kind you are! I am sure I deserve a great deal worsepunishment than that," she exclaimed, raising her head and looking upgratefully and lovingly into his face, "but I am very, very sorry formy disobedience; will you please forgive me?"
"I will, daughter," and he bent down and kissed her lips.
"Now go," he said, "and get your cloak and hood. I think we will stillhave time for a little stroll through the grounds before dark."
Elsie had very little to say during their walk, but moved silently alongby her father's side, with her hand clasped in his; and he, too, seemedunusually abstracted.
It was quite dusk when they entered the house again, and when the littlegirl returned to the study, after Chloe had taken off her wrappings,she found her father seated in an easy-chair, drawn up on one side ofa bright wood fire that was blazing and crackling on the hearth.
Elsie dearly loved the twilight hour, and it was one of her greatestpleasures to climb upon her father's knee and sit there talking orsinging, or perhaps, oftener, just laying her head down on his breastand watching the play of the fire-light on the carpet, or the leapingof the flame hither and thither.
Mr. Dinsmore sat leaning back in his chair, apparently in deep thought,and did not hear Elsie's light step.
She paused for one instant in the doorway, casting a wistful, longinglook at him, then, with a little sigh, walked softly to the other side ofthe fire-place, and seated herself in her little rocking-chair.
For several minutes she sat very quietly gazing into the fire, her littleface wearing a very sober, thoughtful look. But she was startled out ofher reverie by the sound of her father's voice.
"Why am I not to have my little girl on my knee to-night?" he was asking.
She rose instantly, in a quick, eager way, and ran to him.
"If you prefer the rocking-chair, stay there, by all means," he said.
But she had already climbed to her accustomed seat, and, twining her armsaround his neck, she laid her cheek to his, saying, "No, indeed, papa;you know I don't like the rocking-chair half so well as your knee; soplease let me stay here."
"Why did you not come at first, then?" he asked in a playful tone.
"Because I was afraid, papa," she whispered,
"_Afraid_!" he repeated, with an accent of surprise, and looking as if hefelt a little hurt.
"Yes, papa," she answered in a low tone, "because I have been so verynaughty this afternoon that I know I don't deserve to come."
"Did you not hear me say I forgave you?" he asked.
"Yes, papa."
"Very well, then, if you are forgiven you are taken back into favor, justas if you had not transgressed; and if you had quite believed me, youwould have come to me at once, and claimed a daughter's privilege, asusual," he said very gravely.
"I do believe you, papa; I know you always speak the truth and mean justwhat you say," she replied in half-tearful tones, "but I know I don'tdeserve a place on your knee to-night."
"What you _deserve_ is not the question at present; we are talking aboutwhat you can _have_, whether you _deserve_ it or not.
"Ah!" he continued in a low, musing tone, more as if thinking aloud thanspeaking to her, "just so it is with us all in reference to our HeavenlyFather's forgiveness; when he offers us a full and free pardon of all ouroffences, and adoption into his family, we don't more than half believehim, but still go about groaning under the burden of our sins, and afraidto claim the privileges of children.
"It hurts and displeases me when my child doubts my word, and yet howoften I dishonor my Father by doubting his. 'He that believeth not God,maketh him a liar.' 'Without faith it is impossible to please him.'"
He relapsed into silence, and for some moments neither of them spoke.
He was passing his hand caressingly over her hair, and she resting in hisarms and gazing thoughtfully into the fire.
"What is my little one thinking of?" he asked at last.
"I was thinking what a very naughty girl I have been this afternoon,and what a dear, kind papa I have," she said, looking up lovingly intohis face. "You were so kind, papa, not to punish me as I deserved. I wasafraid you would send me directly to bed, and I should miss my pleasantevening with you."
"I hope, my darling," he answered gently, "that you do not think, whenI punish you, it is from anything like a feeling of revenge, or becauseI take pleasure in giving you pain? Not at all. I do it for your owngood--and in this instance, as I thought you were sorry enough for havinggrieved and displeased me to keep you from repeating the offence, Idid not consider any further punishment necessary. But perhaps I wasmistaken, and it was only fear of punishment that caused your tears,"he added, looking keenly at her.
"Oh, no, papa! no indeed!" she exclaimed earnestly, the tears rushinginto her eyes again; "it is worse than any punishment to know that I havegrieved and displeased you, because I love you so very, _very_ dearly!"and the little arm crept round his neck again, and the soft cheek waslaid to his.
"I know it, darling," he said, "I fully believe that you would prefer anyphysical suffering to the pain of my displeasure."
"Papa," she said, after a few moments' silence, "I want to tell yousomething."
"Well, daughter, I am ready to listen," he answered pleasantly; "what isit?"
"I was looking in my desk to-day, papa, for a letter that I wrote to youthe evening before I was taken sick, and I couldn't find it. Did AuntAdelaide give it to you?"
"Yes, dear, I have it, and one of your curls," he said, pressing hercloser to him.
"Yes, papa, _that_ was what I wanted to tell you about. I am afraid I wasvery naughty to cut it off after all you said about it last Christmas;but everything was so strange that night--it seems like a dreadful dreamto me now. I don't think I was quite in my right mind sometimes, and Ithought I was going to die, and something seemed to tell me that youwould want some of my hair when I was gone, and that nobody would saveit for you; and so I cut it off myself. You do not mind about it, papa,dear, do you? You don't think it was _very_ naughty in me?" she askedanxiously.
"No, darling, no; it was very right and kind, and much more than Ideserved," he answered with emotion.
"I am glad you are not angry, papa," she said in a relieved tone, "and,indeed, I did not mean to be naughty or disobedient."
John was just bringing in the lights, and Mr. Dinsmore took a note fromhis pocket, saying, "I will read this to you, daughter, as it concernsyou as well as myself."
It was an invitation from Mrs. Howard--the mother of Elsie's friend,Caroline--to Mr. Dinsmore and his little girl, to come and spend theChristmas holidays with them.
"Well, my pet, what do you say to it? would you like to go?" he asked, ashe refolded the note and returned it to his pocket.
"I don't know, papa; it seems as if it would be pleasant, as we are bothinvited; but home is so sweet, and I am so happy just alone with you thatI hardly want to go away; so if you please, papa, I would much ratherjust leave it all to you."
"Well, then, we will stay quietly at home," he said, with a gratifiedlook; "and I think it will be much the better plan
, for you are notstrong enough yet for gayety, and it would be very little pleasure foryou to be there while unable to join in the sports, and obliged alwaysto keep early hours.
"But we might have a Christmas dinner at home, and invite a few friendsto help us eat it. Whom would you like to have?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Travilla, and Aunt Adelaide, and Lora, if you please, papa,and anybody else you like," she replied, looking very much pleased. "Ishould like to have Carry Howard, but of course I can't--as she is goingto have company of her own; and I believe nearly all the little girls Iam acquainted with are to be there."
"Yes, I suppose so. Well, we will ask those you have mentioned, and Ihope they will come. But there is the tea-bell, and I shall carry mydolly out to the dining-room," he said, rising with her in his arms.
"Papa," she said, when they had returned to their seats by the studyfire, "may I give mammy a nice present this Christmas?"
"Yes," he replied kindly, "I supposed you would want to give somepresents, and I have just been thinking how it might be managed,as you are not fit to shop for yourself. As you have not had anypocket-money for several months, I will allow you now to spend asmuch as you choose--provided you keep within tolerably reasonablebounds," he added, smiling; "so you may make out a list of all thearticles you want, and I will purchase them for you. Will that do?"
"Oh, nicely, papa!" she cried, clapping her hands with delight, "itwas very good of you to think of all that."
"De slippers is come, darlin'; Bill, he fotched 'em from de city disafternoon," remarked Chloe, as she was preparing her little charge forbed that night.
"Oh, have they, mammy? let me see them!" was Elsie's eager exclamation.
Chloe went to her room and was back again in a moment with a bundle inher hand, which Elsie immediately seized and opened with eager haste.
"Oh, how pretty!" she cried, capering about with them in her hands,"aren't they, mammy? Won't papa be pleased?"
Then starting at the sound of his step in the adjoining room, she threwthem into a drawer which Chloe had hastily opened for the purpose.
"Elsie," said her father, opening the door and putting in his head, "whyare you not in bed, my daughter? you will take cold standing there halfundressed. Go to bed immediately."
"Yes, papa, I will," she replied submissively; and he drew back his headagain and shut the door.
"'Mighty narrow 'scape dat," remarked Chloe, laughing; "ef Massa had comejes a minute sooner, de cat been out de bag sure 'nough."
Elsie made out her list the next day, with the help of some suggestionsfrom her father, and by Christmas eve all the purchases had been made,and one of the closets in her bed-room was quite filled with packagesof various sizes and shapes.
The little girl was all excitement, and did not want to go to bed whenthe hour came.
"Please, papa, let me stay up a little longer," she pleaded coaxingly."I am not a bit sleepy."
"No, my daughter; you must go at once," he said; "early hours are ofgreat importance in your present state of health, and you must try to putaway all exciting thoughts, and go to sleep as soon as you can. You willtry to obey me in this?"
"Yes, papa; I am sure I ought to be very good when you are so kind andindulgent to me," she replied, as she put up her face for the usualgood-night kiss.
"God bless and keep my little one, and give her many happy returns ofthis Christmas eve," said Mr. Dinsmore, folding her to his heart.
Elsie had intended to stay awake until her father should be in bed andasleep, and then to steal softly into his room and take away the slippershe usually wore, replacing them with the new ones which she had worked.But now she engaged Chloe to do this for her, and in obedience to hisdirections endeavored to put away all exciting thoughts and go to sleep,in which she succeeded much sooner than she could have believed possible.
She was up and dressed, and saying "Merry Christmas!" at her papa's door,quite early the next morning.
"Come in," said he, "and tell me what fairy has been here, changing myold slippers to new ones."
"No fairy at all, papa; but just dear old mammy," she cried, springinginto his arms with a merry, ringing laugh.
"Ah, but I know very well it wasn't Aunt Chloe's fingers that workedthem," he said, kissing her first on one cheek, then on the other. "Iwish you a very merry Christmas, and a _very happy_ New Year, my darling.Thank you for your gift; I like it very much, indeed; and now see whatpapa has for _you_."
And opening a pretty little box that stood on his dressing-table, he tookfrom it a beautiful pearl necklace and bracelets, and clasped them roundher neck and arms.
"Oh, how beautiful! dear papa, thank you very much," she exclaimed,delighted.
"Your Aunt Adelaide thought you didn't care much for ornaments," heremarked, looking much pleased.
"I do when _you_ give them to me, papa," she answered, raising her eyesto his face with one of her sweet, loving smiles.
"I am very glad my present pleases you," he said, "but for fear itshould not, I have provided another," and he placed in her hand a veryhandsomely bound volume of Scott's poems.
"I don't deserve it, papa," she said, coloring deeply, and dropping hereyes on the carpet.
"You shall have it, at any rate," he replied, laying his hand gently onher drooping head; "and now you can finish the 'Lady of the Lake' thisafternoon, if you like. His prose works I may perhaps give you at somefuture day; but I do not choose you should read them for some years tocome. But now we will lay this book aside for the present, and haveour morning chapter together."
They had finished their devotions, and she was sitting on his knee,waiting for the breakfast-bell to ring.
"When did you find an opportunity to work these without letting me intothe secret?" he asked, extending his foot, and turning it from side toside to look at his slipper. "It puzzles me to understand it, since Iknow that for weeks past you have scarcely been an hour out of my sightduring the day--not since you were well enough to sew," he said, smilingdown at her.
There was an expression of deep gravity, almost amounting to sadness, onElsie's little face, that surprised her father a good deal.
"All, papa!" she murmured, "it makes me feel sad, and glad, too, to lookat those slippers."
"Why, darling?" he asked in a tender tone.
"Because, papa, I worked almost the whole of them last summer, in thosesorrowful days when I was all alone. I thought I was going to die, papa,for I was sure I could not live very long without you to love me, and Iwanted to make something for you that would remind you of your littlegirl when she was gone, and perhaps convince you that she did reallylove you, although she seemed so naughty and rebellious,"
The tears were streaming down her cheeks, and there was a momentarystruggle to keep down a rising sob; and then she added--
"I finished them since I came here, papa, a little at a time, wheneveryou were not with me."
He was deeply moved. "My poor darling!" he sighed, drawing her closer tohim, and caressing her tenderly, "those were sad days to us both, andthough I _then_ persuaded myself that I was doing my duty toward you, ifyou had been taken away from me I could never have forgiven myself, orknown another happy moment. But God has treated me with undeservedmercy."
After breakfast the house-servants were all called in to familyworship, as usual; and when that had been attended to, Elsie uncovereda large basket which stood on a side-table, and with a face beamingwith delight, distributed the Christmas gifts--a nice new calico dress,or a bright-colored hand-kerchief to each, accompanied by a paper ofconfectionery.
They were received with bows and courtesies, broad grins of satisfaction,and many repetitions of "Tank you, Miss Elsie! dese berry handsome--berrynice, jes de ting for dis chile."
Mr. Dinsmore stood looking on highly gratified, and coming in for a shareof the thanks.
An hour or two later, Elsie's little pony, and her father's larger butequally beautiful steed, were brought up to the door, and they rode downto the quarter, fo
llowed by Jim and Bill, each carrying a good-sizedbasket; and there a very similar scene was gone through with--Elsiefinishing up the business by showering sugar-plums into the outstretchedaprons of the little ones, laughing merrily at their eagerness, andhighly enjoying their delight.
She half wished for an instant, as she turned her horse's head to rideaway again, that she was one of them, so much did she want a share of thecandy, which her father refused to let her taste, saying it was not fitfor her when she was well, and much less now while she had yet hardlyrecovered from severe illness.
But it was a lovely morning, the air pure and bracing, and everythingelse was speedily forgotten in the pleasure of a brisk ride with herfather. They rode several miles, and on their return were overtakenby Mr. Travilla, who remarked that Elsie had quite a color, and waslooking more like herself than he had seen her since her sickness. He wason horseback, and his mother arrived a little later in the carriage,having called at Roselands on the way, and picked up Adelaide. Lora didnot come, as she had accepted an invitation to spend the holidays at Mr.Howard's, where a little girl about her own age, a cousin of Carry's,from the North, was spending the winter.
Mr. Travilla put a beautiful little pearl ring on Elsie's finger, whichshe gracefully thanked him for, and then showing it to her father, "See,papa," she said, "how nicely it matches the bracelets."
"Yes, daughter, it is very pretty," he replied, "and one of these days,when you are old enough to wear it, you shall have a pin to match."
Mrs. Travilla and Adelaide each gave her a handsome book--Adelaide's wasa beautifully bound Bible--and Elsie was delighted with all her presents,and thought no little girl could be richer in Christmas gifts thanherself.
The day passed very pleasantly, for they were quite like a family party,every one seeming to feel perfectly at home and at ease.
The negroes were to have a grand dinner at the quarter, and Elsie, whohad been deeply interested in the preparations--cake-baking, etc.--wasnow very anxious to see them enjoying their feast; so about one o'clockshe and her father invited their guests to walk down there with them toenjoy the sight.
"_I_, for one, would like nothing better," said Mr. Travilla, offeringhis arm to Adelaide, while Mr. Dinsmore took Mrs. Travilla, Elsie walkingon the other side and keeping fast hold of his hand.
They found it a very merry scene; and the actors in it scarcely enjoyedit more than the spectators.
Their own dinner was served up somewhat later in the day, and withappetites rendered keen by their walk in the bracing air, they were readyto do it full justice.
Adelaide, at her brother's request, took the head of the table, andplayed the part of hostess very gracefully.
"Ah, Dinsmore," remarked Travilla, a little mischievously, glancing fromone to the other, "you have a grand establishment here, but it stilllacks its chief ornament. Miss Adelaide fills the place _to-day_, mostgracefully, it is true; but then we all know she is only borrowed forthe occasion."
Mr. Dinsmore colored a little and looked slightly annoyed.
"Elsie will supply that deficiency in a few years," he said, "and untilthen, I think I can depend upon the kindness of my sisters. Besides,Travilla," he added laughingly, "you must not forget the old proverbabout people who live in glass houses."
"Ah," replied Travilla, looking affectionately at his mother, "_I have_ amistress for my establishment, and so can _afford_ to wait for Elsie."
The child looked up quickly, with a slight flush on her face.
"You needn't, Mr. Travilla!" she said, "for I am _never_ going to leavemy father; and you know he promised not to give me away, so if you want alittle girl you will have to look somewhere else."
"Ah! well, I will not despair yet," he replied laughingly, "for I havelearned that ladies, both little and large, very often change theirminds, and so I shall still live in hopes."
"You know I like you very much indeed, Mr. Travilla--next best topapa--but then I couldn't leave him for _anybody_, you see," Elsiesaid in a deprecating tone, and looking affectionately up into his face.
"No, my dear, that is quite right, and I don't feel at all hurt," heanswered with a good-natured smile, which seemed to relieve her verymuch.
Tea was over, the guests had returned to their homes, and Mr. Dinsmoresat by the fire, as usual, with his little girl upon his knee.
"We have had a very pleasant day, papa, haven't we?" she remarked.
"Yes, darling, I have enjoyed it, and I hope you have, too."
"Very much indeed, papa; and I do like all my presents so much."
"If I should ask you to give me something of yours, would you be willingto do it?" he inquired in a grave tone.
"Why, papa!" she said, looking up quickly into his face, "doesn'teverything I have belong to you?"
"In some sense it does, certainly," he replied, "and yet I like you tofeel that you have some rights of property. But you did not answer myquestion."
"I can't think what it can be, papa; but I am sure there is nothing ofmine that I wouldn't be very glad to give you, if you wanted it," shesaid earnestly.
"Well, then," said he, "your aunt gave you a new Bible to-day, and as youdon't need two, will you give the old one to me?"
A slight shade had come over the little girl's face, and she sat for amoment apparently in deep thought; then, looking up lovingly into hisface, she replied, "I love it very much, papa, and I don't know whetherany other Bible could ever seem _quite_ the same to me--it was mamma's,you know--and it has been with me in all my troubles, and I don't thinkI could be quite willing to give it to anybody else; but I am very gladto give it to you, my own dear, dear papa!" and she threw her arms aroundhis neck.
"Thank you very much, my darling. I know it is a very strong proof ofyour affection, and I shall value it more than its weight in gold," hesaid, pressing her to his heart, and kissing her tenderly.