"Horace, bring papa that newspaper that lies on the table yonder," Mr.
Dinsmore said to his little son.
The child, seated in his own little chair by his mother's side, was
listlessly turning the leaves of a picture-book. Elsie had just
finished her recitations for the morning, and was now sitting on the
other side of Rose, taking a lesson in fancy-work.
Mr. Dinsmore had spoken in a pleasant tone, rather of request than
command, yet Horace, though usually ready to obey promptly and
cheerfully, sat perfectly still, as if he had not heard, or did not
choose to heed.
"Horace, do you hear me? Go and bring me that paper," said his father;
and this time the tone was one of stern command.
The child's face instantly assumed a stubborn, sullen expression, while
he neither moved nor answered.
Elsie, pale and trembling with apprehension, gave him an entreating,
her father an imploring look, which neither seemed to see.
Mr. Dinsmore was regarding his son with a look of stern displeasure,
and Horace's eyes were on his book.
"Horace, dear, do as papa bids you," said Rose, with gentle entreaty.
"Leave him to me, Rose," said her husband; "I have given the order, and
I am the one to enforce it. Horace, obey me instantly or I shall whip
you till you do."
At that stern sentence Elsie almost cried out in fear and dismay, for
well she knew her father's indomitable will, and she could perceive
that Horace, whom she so dearly loved, that to see him suffer pain was
far worse than to have it inflicted upon herself, was just now in a
most stubborn, refractory mood.
Probably the state of the atmosphere had something to do with it, for
it was a rainy day, close and sultry.
"Me don't want to," muttered the little fellow, making no movement to
obey; then as he felt a not very gentle grasp upon his arm, "Me won't!"
he cried, with a defiant look upon his father's face.
Mr. Dinsmore instantly administered a pretty severe chastisement, Rose
sitting by pale and sad, Elsie with the tears streaming over her cheeks.
Horace cried violently, but still refused obedience to the reiterated
command, "Go and get that paper and bring it to me."
The punishment was repeated with added severity, but he stubbornly
persisted in his refusal, and the battle went on till his mother,
unable to endure the sight, rose and left the room, and Elsie so far
forgot herself in her darling little brother's pain that she ran to the
rescue, threw her arms about him, and tried to drag him away from her
father.
"Oh, papa, don't!" she sobbed; "please don't whip him any more! I
cannot bear it."
"Elsie! how dare you!" Mr. Dinsmore exclaimed, in astonishment and
wrath, putting her forcibly aside as he spoke. "Leave the room
instantly," he added, in his sternest tones and with a stamp of his
foot.
She let go her hold of the child, but, lingering, began again her
entreaty, "Oh, papa, please--"
"Will you compel me to punish you in the same way?" he said, again
stamping his foot and pointing significantly to the door.
At that she hastened from the room and sought her own, crying as if
her heart would break.
Horace yielded at last, when nearly exhausted with the conflict,
received a kiss of reconciliation from his father, was then carried to
his mother, and wept himself to sleep in her arms, her tears falling
almost as fast as his.
She had laid him in his crib and was bending over him, tenderly
smoothing back the damp curls from his heated brow, when her husband
came softly to her side, and, putting his arm about her waist, asked in
low, moved tones, "Do you blame me, my Rose? Do you think me a cruel
father?"
She did not answer for a moment, but seemed struggling with emotion.
He sighed deeply.
"I--I think you were conscientious in it all," she said at length, her
voice tremulous with feeling, "and that after beginning the conflict it
was necessary for you to conquer; but I think the beginning it was a
sad mistake."
"How do you mean? What would you have had me do when my child refused
to obey a command so simple and easy to understand and do?"
"My husband," she said, allowing him to lead her to a sofa, where they
sat down side by side, "I do not like to seem to try to teach you who
are so much older and wiser than I; but do you not think you would
have spared yourself and all of us a great deal of pain if instead of
compelling obedience you had simply punished refusal to obey, and there
let the matter rest?"
"Would it have gone as far toward securing obedience in the future?" he
queried, rather as if considering the question himself than asking her
opinion.
"I think so," she said. "Surely a child will not be apt to disobey
very often when he finds that swift punishment is always meted out in
proportion to the magnitude of the offence."
He sat silently meditating for some little time, she anxiously watching
the expression of his face.
At length, turning to her, "I believe you are right, my love," he said,
"and I shall, if possible, avoid such conflicts in the future, as you
advise, simply punishing the act of disobedience, or refusal to obey.
To-day that course would, as you have suggested, have saved us all a
great deal of suffering; and oh, what would it not have saved to Elsie
and myself if put into practice years ago!" He sighed deeply as he
added, "And the pain occasioned by this unfortunate conflict is not all
over yet, for I have her to punish now."
"Elsie?" exclaimed Rose, looking at him in great surprise; "what has
she done?"
He told her what had occurred just as she left the room where he was
battling with Horace, adding, "I must, of course, punish her, for she
was not only rebelling against my authority herself, but upholding her
brother in doing the same."
"I suppose so," said Rose sadly, "but I wish you could feel it right
and wise to forgive her."
"Not till I have inflicted some punishment," he said; "the offence was
quite too serious to be lightly passed over."
"But you will not be severe with her?" Rose said pleadingly. "You know
it was only her great love for her little brother that made her for a
moment forgetful of her duty to you. And I am sure she is repenting
bitterly now."
"I have no intention of inflicting corporal punishment, if that is what
you apprehend," he said; "but I think I ought to make her aware, for a
day or two at least, that she is in disgrace with me."
"I am so sorry," sighed Rose; "for though to some children that would
be a very slight punishment, I know that to her it will be positively
dreadful."
"Yes," he returned, echoing her sigh, "she is extravagantly fond of her
father's caresses and endearments, but so is he of hers, and I doubt if
the punishment will be more severe to the one than to the other of us."
"What's de mattah, chile? What's de mattah wid you an' little massa?"
Aunt Chloe asked, with an anxious, troubled look, as Elsie rushed into
her own apartments crying very bitterly.
Amid heavy sobbing and floods of tears the little girl related what had
passed between her father and brother, winding up with the story of her
interference and its result.
"Oh, darlin' chile, dat was bad!" exclaimed Chloe. "You shouldn't neber
do no sich ting as dat! Dat be bery bad ting fo' little massa, what you
been an' gone an' done. De Bible say chillens mus' min' dere fader and
mudder."
Elsie made no reply, but throwing herself on a couch, half buried her
face in a pillow in the effort to shut out the sound of Horace's cries,
which penetrated even there.
Until they ceased she scarcely thought of anything but that he was
being hurt; but when all grew quiet with the ending of the conflict,
she was suddenly struck with the enormity of her offence and the dread
certainty that her father was greatly and justly incensed at her
unwarrantable interference between him and her brother.
She was astonished at her own temerity, and trembled at thought of the
probable consequences. That some sort of punishment would be meted out
to her she had not the slightest doubt, and as her father was wont to
be prompt in action, she fully expected a visit from him as soon as he
was done disciplining Horace.
She listened with a quaking heart for the sound of his approaching
footsteps; but the minutes and the hours crept on and he came not.
The dinner-bell rang, and Elsie started up full of perplexity and
alarm, doubting whether she was or was not expected to obey its summons.
"Oh, mammy," she cried, "I don't know what to do! I don't want to go
to the table. Please go and ask papa if I may be excused. Tell him my
head aches, for indeed it does, and I'm not at all hungry."
"Co'se, chile, co'se you's got misery in de head after all dat cryin',"
replied Aunt Chloe, putting down her knitting to go and do the errand.
"Don' cry no mo', honey; maybe massa forgib you, ef you's right down
sorry."
"I am sorry, mammy," sobbed Elsie; "oh, I am very sorry; but I know
that papa will punish me somehow or other, and I deserve it."
"Maybe not, honey," responded Aunt Chloe cheerfully, then hurried away
to the dining-room.
She returned in a few minutes, bringing a very nice meal daintily
arranged on a silver waiter.
"What did papa say?" asked Elsie anxiously.
"Not much, honey; only, 'Bery well, Aunt Chloe, you kin take her
something when she feels inclined to eat.'"
Elsie's tears burst forth afresh. Was it then a matter of indifference
to her father that she was in pain? her father, who was usually so
full of loving anxiety at the slightest indication of anything being
amiss with her?
"Oh, mammy," she sobbed, "what if papa shouldn't ever love me any more!"
"Ki, chile, dat a heap ob nonsense you's talkin' now!" laughed Chloe.
"Massa couldn't neber help it; not a bit; you's jes' de light ob his
eyes. Dere now, don' cry no mo', but jes' eat what your ole mammy fotch
fo' you."
There was some slight and temporary comfort in the assurance her mammy
expressed, and the little girl found herself able, by its help, to eat
sparingly of the dainties she had brought her.
"Did papa say I must stay in my rooms till I got permission to leave
them?" she asked.
"No, honey, darlin', he didn't say nuffin' 't all 'bout dat; didn't gib
no corrections, but jes' 'bout gibin' you what you wants to eat when
you's ready fo' it. Dat don' soun' so mighty bad fo' yo' case, chile,
an' I respects mass'll be comin' in 'rectly fo' to kiss an' make up."
"No," Elsie said, shaking her head and bursting into tears again,
"he'll punish me first; I am quite sure of that."
"Ki, chile! ef he gwine fo' to do dat, what you 'spose he waitin' fo'?"
"I don't know," sobbed the little girl; "but I'm afraid it will be a
long while before he will pet and fondle me again, or even give me a
kind look or word."
"Why you tink dat, honey?"
"Oh, because he looked so stern and angry when he stamped his foot at
me and ordered me out of the room."
The afternoon passed very slowly in the constant yet vain expectation
of a visit from her father or a summons to his presence. Several times
she was on the point of venturing into it without being called, but her
heart failed her; she was not sure that it might not be looked upon as
an additional offence; he had sent her out of the room without saying
how long he meant her banishment to last.
Besides, she wanted to be sure of seeing him alone; she would not have
even Rose a witness of the interview.
So she waited till the hour when the latter would be engaged in seeing
little Horace put to bed for the night, then in much trepidation went
in search of her father. She felt quite sure of finding him alone, for
there were no guests in the house, and as it was still storming, there
seemed no danger of any one calling.
She went first to the parlor, which was their principal family room
when alone. Yes, there he was, sitting in an easy-chair by a window,
his back toward her, doubtless reading, and quite alone.
She stole noiselessly to the back of his chair, her heart beating
very fast and loud. She almost thought he must hear it; but he seemed
unaware of her approach, entirely absorbed in his book.
She caught hold of the chair-back to steady and support herself, for
she was trembling in every limb.
"Papa, I--" she began, her voice full of tears.
"I have nothing to say to you, Miss Dinsmore, except that I forbid
you to address me by that title or to call me father, or to take any
liberties with me that would be unsuitable in a stranger guest in the
house," he interrupted, in a freezing tone, without turning toward her,
and with his eyes still upon his book.
"Oh, I can't bear it! I _can't_ bear it!" she cried, with a burst of
sobs and tears, throwing herself at his feet. "I know I've behaved
very badly, but I'm--"
"Get up," he said sternly, again interrupting her; "control yourself,
or leave the room till you can."
His look was as stern and cold as his words.
She struggled to her feet and went back to her own rooms, crying very
bitterly.
"Oh, mammy, mammy," she sobbed, "it's even worse than I expected, for
I'm forbidden to call him father or papa. Oh, what shall I do? How can
I call him anything else? And I mustn't hug or kiss him or sit on his
knee; and--and he called me 'Miss Dinsmore.' Just think of it! Not even
Elsie, without the pet names I love so to hear from his lips, but Miss
Dinsmore, as if I were a stranger he cared nothing about."
"'Tain't gwine to las' long, honey darlin', dat ar ain't," said Chloe
soothingly, taking the weeper in her arms and caressing her tenderly;
"you' jes' de light ob massa's eyes, like I tole you befo', an' de pet
names be sho' to come again fo' long. 'Sides, you'll hab yo' ole seat
on massa's knee, an' all de hugs and kisses you wants."
"I'm afraid not for a long while, mammy," sobbed the little girl. "I
think papa has not been so displeased with me since that dreadful time,
so long ago, when we lived at Roselands."
The tea-bell rang.
"Is you gwine to de table, darlin'?" Chloe asked.
"Oh no, no, mammy!" Elsie exclaimed, with a fresh burst of grief; "papa
bade me leave the room till I could control myself, and I know I could
not do that in his presence yet; oh, how can I ever be with him and not
call him father or papa?"
As they sat down to the table Rose glanced at the vacant seat, then
at her husband. "I fear the dear child is ill with grief and remorse,
Horace," she said, with a troubled, anxious look; "she has such a
tender conscience, and so dearly loves the father whose displeasure she
has incurred."
"She is not ill; I saw her a few moments since," he answered, with a
sigh. "She is distressed, I know, but it is the consequence of her own
wrong-doing, and she must endure it for a time that she may learn never
again to encourage her brother in resistance to lawful authority."
"Don't you think the lesson may be already learned?" Rose said
pleadingly. "She has no stubbornness in her nature, but is very easily
subdued and made penitent."
"I am not so sure of that; she comes of very stubborn stock, on one
side at least," he replied, with a rather melancholy attempt at
pleasantry.
"My dear husband, I wish you would forgive her," pleaded the young
step-mother. "Surely you will before she goes to bed to-night?"
"Can you not be content to leave her to me, my Rose?" he asked. "Do you
not know that I am a most doting father? that she is the very light of
my eyes, and core of my heart? Ah, I sometimes fear she is her father's
idol."
"No," Rose said, half-chokingly, and with tears in her eyes, "I am sure
your conscience need not trouble you on that score so long as you can
find it in your heart to be so severe with her faults."
"Not in my heart, love," he returned, a little hurt, "but in the
settled conviction that I am acting for her good. It requires a strong
effort of my will to resist the promptings of affection; love that
urges me to send for her at once, tell her she is forgiven, and lavish
the tenderest caresses upon her."
"That is just what I should rejoice to see you do," said Rose.
"To-morrow or next day perhaps you may," he answered, in a tone that
seemed to imply that he wished to hear no more on the subject. And
Rose, like the wise woman and affectionate wife that she was, dropped
it, though her heart ached for Elsie.
After they had left the dining-room for the parlor, she asked if she
might go to the little girl's apartments and see if she were feeling
quite well.
"I really don't like to claim so much authority over my wife as to
forbid her going where she will about my house, which is her own also,"
he said, with a slight smile, "but I should prefer to have the child
left to herself for the present. I have not confined her to her rooms,
and she can join us when she will. I only bade her leave my presence
this afternoon till she could control herself; and she would understand
from that that she was at liberty to return to it when ready to comply
with the condition."
"How she will miss her good-night chat seated upon her father's knee;
the good-night hug and kiss he has been wont to bestow upon her!"
sighed Rose.
"Yes," he said, in a moved tone, rising and beginning to pace the room
in a disturbed way, "she will hardly know what to do without them;
nor shall I; but we must. Don't make any further efforts to shake my
resolve, Rose, for I cannot, must not, pass lightly over so serious a
misdemeanor as she has been guilty of in this instance."
Rose could but comply with his wishes, so plainly and strongly
expressed, and Elsie passed the evening alone, except for the
companionship of her nurse; for she dared not trust herself again in
her father's presence till she could hope to be able to maintain the
self-control he required.
As her hour for retiring drew near, Aunt Chloe noted how she was
listening for approaching footsteps, at the same time glancing
frequently at her watch or the clock on the mantel.
"Sho, honey, you's gwine to de parlor to say good-night fo' you goes to
bed?" she remarked inquiringly.
Elsie shook her head, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "How can I,
mammy, when I mustn't say father or papa?" she sobbed. "I couldn't
without crying, if at all; and papa forbade me his presence till I
could control myself. There, my bedtime has come, and papa hasn't.
Oh, I could hardly help hoping he did not mean to let me go to bed
unforgiven. There's never been a night before since--since those
dreadful days at Roselands, that I've gone without his kiss, or without
being held close to his heart with tender, loving words as if I were
the dearest thing to him in all the world."
"Don't you go for to fret yo' po' heart out, blessed chile," Chloe
said, taking her nursling in her kind arms. "Yo' ole mammy lubs you
like her life; so does yo' pa too; an' maybe he's gwine come in hyah
'bout de time you's ready fo' bed, to kiss an' make up ef you promises
neber to do so no mo' as you been an' gone an' done dis hyah mornin'."
"Oh no, never, never!" Elsie sobbed, hiding her face for a moment on
Aunt Chloe's shoulder. "I don't know how I ever dared to do it! I
deserve to be punished very severely; no wonder papa is so displeased
with me."
She was soon in bed, but did not, as usual with her, fall asleep at
once; she lay for a good while listening to every sound, hoping even
against hope that her father would relent and come to give her his
forgiveness and a loving kiss ere she slept; but he did not, and at
length she cried herself to sleep. It was the same thing over again in
the morning; she hoped he would come to her to inquire of her penitence
and good resolutions for the future, or send for her to go to him; but
she waited and wished in vain, breakfasted in her own rooms--still too
distrustful of her power of self-control to venture to join her parents
in the breakfast-room--then prepared her task for the day; yet could
not find courage to carry them to her father that he might hear her
recitations.
She was glad the weather continued such as to keep visitors away; she
hoped none would come till this trouble of hers was over; for how
could she bear to have any one out of the family--even good, kind Mr.
Travilla--know that she had so displeased her father? And while his
displeasure lasted, how impossible it would be for any guest to fail to
perceive it.
She tried one employment after an other--needlework, reading,
music--but found no interest in any of them, and every now and then she
would give way to a fit of violent weeping.
"Oh," she said to herself, "how long is it to last? Papa did not say,
and I don't know when he will think I have been punished enough."
So the day wore wearily away, and night came again without any change
for the better.
Sadly mourning over her estrangement from her father, and longing
inexpressibly for his forgiveness and loving favor, a thought struck
her.
"Ah, yes," she said half aloud, "I will write to papa the confession
and plea for pardon he would not let me speak."
Opening her writing-desk, she selected a sheet of paper, took up her
pen and dipped it in the ink; but, alas, how should she begin her note?
By what title address the father who had forbidden her to call him
that? How impossible to call him anything else! How disrespectful, how
impertinent to omit a title altogether!
She laid down her pen, pushed the paper aside, and covering her face
with her hands, wept long and bitterly, Chloe watching her with
tear-dimmed eyes.
"Precious chile," she said at length, "what kin yo' ole mammy do fo'
her pet?"
"Nothing, mammy, unless you could persuade my father to forgive and
love me again."
"Po' dear, he'll do dat befo' long; I'se pow'ful sure ob dat. Massa so
fond ob you he kaint hole out much longer hisself. Was you gwine write
sumfin' to massa, honey?"
"Yes, but I can't, because he forbade me to call him father or papa,
and--and oh, I don't know how to call him anything else. Oh, mammy, I
don't believe I can sleep at all to-night without his forgiveness!"
"Den 'spose my chile go an' ax massa fo' it."
"No, I dare not, because he forbade me to take any greater liberty with
him than a stranger guest might, or to come into his presence till I
could be calm; and I know I could not yet."
"Den yo' ole mammy gwine fo' you; an' dis am de bes' time, kase I
s'pect massa by hisself in de parlor," she said, rising and leaving the
room.
As she had expected, she found Mr. Dinsmore alone in the parlor.
Dropping a courtesy, she stood before him with folded hands, waiting in
respectful silence for an invitation to speak.
"Well, Aunt Chloe, what is it?" he asked.
"Massa, my chile frettin' herself sick."
"She must not do that," he said, with a touch of sternness in his tone.
"Please, sah, s'pose my chile kaint help it?"
"She must help it. Tell her I say so."
"Oh, massa, ain't you gwine forgib my chile? She am mighty sorry she
been an' gone an' done such t'ing; she ain't neber gwine do de like ob
dat no mo'."
"I trust not," he said; "I shall have to be very severe with her if she
does. No, I am not ready to forgive her yet. Such conduct as she has
been guilty of cannot be passed over with a trifling punishment. She
must be made to realize that her offence is a very serious one."
A wave of his hand with the last word gave Chloe to understand that the
interview was at an end.
Elsie's heart beat high betwixt hope and fear as she sat waiting and
listening for Chloe's returning footsteps, and for her father's, which
might perhaps accompany or precede them.
"Oh, mammy, what did he say? will he forgive me? may I go to him now
and call him papa?" she asked, half-breathlessly and with an eager,
longing look, as her nurse came in. Then reading the answer in Chloe's
sad and troubled countenance, she dropped her face into her hands and
sobbed aloud.
"Don't, chile; don't, honey darlin'; I'se sho it all come right befo'
long," Chloe said tenderly, laying her hand caressingly on the drooping
head. "But massa he say you mus' stop dis frettin' an' cryin'. I tole
him s'pose you couldn't, but he say bery sternly, 'She must.' Kin you
do it, darlin'?"
"I'll try; I must obey my father," she sighed, and lifting her head,
wiped away her tears, and by a strong and determined effort stopped
their flow and suppressed her sobs.
It was now time for her preparations for bed. She went through them in
silence, tears now and again gathering in her eyes, but none suffered
to fall.
"Papa must be obeyed," she kept repeating to herself.
She maintained her self-control for some time after laying her head
upon her pillow, but sleep did not visit it, and as she lay there
turning restlessly from side to side, mental distress again so overcame
her that ere she was aware of it she was wetting her pillow with floods
of tears and sobbing aloud.
It was now Mr. Dinsmore's own hour for retiring, and he was in his
room, the door of communication with his little daughter's bedroom open
as usual, so that the sound of her weeping came very distinctly to his
ear.
The next moment Elsie felt herself lifted from the bed and set upon her
feet; then her hand was taken in a close clasp and she led into the
adjoining room, her own dressing-room.
Here the moon shone brightly in at a window, in front of which stood an
easy-chair. Toward that her father led her, and seating himself therein
was about to draw her to his knee; but she fell at his feet sobbing,
"Pa--oh, I can't help forgetting and calling you that, or crying
because you are angry with me; but I don't want to be disobedient, and
I'm so, so sorry for all my naughtiness. Please, please forgive me;
please let me call you father, or my heart will break!"
"You may. I remove the prohibition," he said, in a moved tone, lifting
her up and drawing her to his breast; "and if you are indeed very
penitent on account of your very bad behavior yesterday, and promise
never to do such a thing again, I will forgive and receive you back
into favor."
"Dear father, thank you," she sobbed, clinging about his neck. "I think
I was never so sorry in all my life, and I am quite resolved never,
never to do such a thing again; I am astonished at myself to think I
ever dared to do it."
"So am I," he said; "and I am afraid you are hardly yet fully sensible
of the enormity of your offence. I want you to reflect that in that act
you were not only guilty of high-handed rebellion yourself, but were
encouraging and upholding your brother in the same. Do you wonder that
I have felt it my painful duty to punish you with some severity?"
"No, papa," she answered humbly, "I feel that I have deserved it all,
and a great deal more. I wonder you didn't whip me too then and there,
that Horace might see how very naughty you considered my interference,
and that I must obey just the same as he."
"I probably should have done just that had you been a little younger,"
he said, "and I am not altogether sure that I ought to have suffered
you to escape as it was. You may be very sure," he added gravely and
with some sternness of tone, "that you will not, if the offence is ever
repeated."
"Oh, it shall not be, papa, it never, never shall!" she exclaimed,
holding up her face for a kiss, which he gave very heartily.
"To make sure of that, if you see such a conflict beginning (though I
trust there will be no more of them), leave the room at once," he said.
They were silent for a moment, she with her head laid on his breast,
her arm about his neck, while he held her close, softly smoothing the
curls back from her brow with the free hand, and gazing down tenderly
into the little pale face with its tear-swollen eyes.
"My poor darling, you have had a sad time of it," he remarked
presently. "You have been crying a great deal, I see."
At that her face flushed painfully, and her lip quivered. "Please,
papa, don't be angry," she said in tremulous tones. "I tried to stop as
soon as you sent me word that I must. I didn't shed any more tears till
after I got into bed; but then I was so, so hungry for my good-night
kiss that they would come in spite of all I could do."
"Don't be afraid," he said; "I have forgiven all your offences, and
this is the seal," kissing her fondly several times.
"Dear papa, thank you. Oh, how dearly I do love you! how sweet your
caresses are to me!" she exclaimed. Then after a moment's silence, "Are
mamma and Horace quite well, papa?" she asked.
"Yes; both would have been in to see you if their plans had met my
approval. Horace was much concerned when I explained to him that
because his sister was so very naughty as to try to take him away from
me when I was punishing him for being stubborn and disobedient, she had
to be punished too; and for that reason he could not see her."
"I am very much ashamed of having set him so bad an example, papa," she
said with a sob, and blushing deeply.
"It was to neutralize that example, not to mortify you, that I deemed
it necessary to tell him. Now, my love, my darling, it is high time you
were in bed and asleep," he added, repeating his caresses; then setting
her on her feet again, he led her back to her bed, laid her in it, and
with a fatherly blessing and a kiss on lip and cheek and forehead, left
her to her slumbers.
At first she seemed too full of joy and thankfulness to close an eye;
yet ere she was aware of it the happy waking thoughts had merged
themselves in blissful dreams.
[Illustration]
Chapter Eleventh.