Lulu’s face was full of gladness as she took her letter from Mr. Dinsmore’s hand and, glancing at the address, recognized the well-known and loved handwriting.

“Dear Lu, I’m so glad for you!” murmured Evelyn close to her ear, then turned and walked swiftly away.

“Oh, poor, dear Evelyn! she can never get a letter from her father,” thought Lulu with a deep feeling of compassion, as she sent one quick glance after the retreating figure.

But her thoughts instantly returned to her treasure, and she hurried to the privacy of her own room to enjoy its perusal unobserved.

Reading what her father had written directly to her, and her alone, was like having a private interview with him even a sight of which must be allowed to no third person; besides, he might have said something that would touch her feelings, and she could not bear to have any of “these people” see her cry.

It was not a long letter, but tenderly affectionate.  He called her his dear child, his darling little daughter, and told her he was very often thinking of and praying for her; asking that God would bless her in time and eternity; that He would help her to conquer her faults and grow up to good and useful womanhood; and that when her life on earth was done He would receive her to glory and immortality in the better land.

He spoke of having received flattering accounts of her studiousness and general good behavior since last he parted from her, and said that until she should become a parent herself she could never know the joy of heart it had given him.  He knew that she must have fought many a hard battle with her besetting sins, and while he hoped that a desire to please God had been among her motives, he rejoiced in believing that love for himself had influenced her also.

“And it makes me very happy to think so, my precious little daughter; very glad to be able to bestow praise upon you rather than reproof,” he added.

Lulu’s cheeks grew hot with shame as she read these words of commendation—­now so undeserved—­and tears started to her eyes as, in imagination, she saw the look of deep pain and distress that would come over her father’s face when he learned of her late misconduct.

“Oh, why am I not a better girl?” she sighed to herself; “how could I behave so when I know it grieves my dear papa like that!”

CHAPTER XVI.

Lulu’s protest.

Lulu’s self-upbraidings were broken in upon by a gentle tap at her door, followed by Grace’s voice saying in glad, eager tones, “Come, Lulu, mamma is going to read us some of her letter from papa.  And you shall see mine too, if you want to.”

“Yes, I’ll be there in a minute,” Lulu replied, jumping up, hastily folding her letter, slipping it into its envelope, and that into her pocket.

This done, she hurried into Violet’s dressing-room and joined Max and Grace as listeners to the reading of her father’s letter to his wife.