Adelaide watched his face with the deepest anxiety.

He passed his hand over Elsie’s beautiful curls.

“It seems a sad pity,” he remarked in a low tone to her aunt, “but they will have to be sacrificed; they must be cut off immediately, and her head shaved.”

Adelaide shuddered and trembled.  “Is there any hope, doctor?” she faltered almost under her breath.

“There is life yet, Miss Adelaide,” he said, “and we must use all the means within our reach; but I wish her father was here.  Have you heard nothing yet?”

“No, nothing, nothing!” she answered, in a tone of keen distress; then hastily left the room to give the necessary orders for carrying out the doctor’s directions.

“No, no, you must not!  Papa will not allow it—­he will be very angry—­he will punish me if you cut off my curls!” and Elsie’s little hand was raised in a feeble attempt to push away the remorseless scissors that were severing the bright locks from her head.

“No, darling, he will not be displeased, because it is quite necessary to make you well.” said Mrs. Travilla in her gentle, soothing tones; “and your papa would bid us do it, if he were here.”

“No, no, don’t cut it off.  I will not, I cannot be a nun!  Oh, papa, save me! save me!” she shrieked.

“Dear child, you are safe at home, with none but friends around you.”

It was Mrs. Travilla’s gentle voice again, and for a moment the child seemed calmed; but only for a moment; another wild fancy possessed her brain, and she cried out wildly, “Don’t! don’t!—­take it away!  I will not bow down to images!  No, no, I will not.”  Then, with a bitter, wailing cry, that went to the heart of every one who heard it:  “Oh, papa, don’t be angry!  I will be good!  Oh, I am all alone, nobody to love me.”

“Elsie, darling, we are all here, and we love you dearly, dearly,” said Adelaide in quivering tones, while her scalding tears fell like rain upon the little hand she had taken in hers.

“My papa—­I want my papa; but he said he would never kiss me till I submit;” the tone was low and plaintive, and the large mournful eyes were fixed upon Adelaide’s face.

Then suddenly her gaze was directed upward, a bright smile overspread her features, and she exclaimed in joyous accents, “Yes, mamma, yes; I am coming!  I will go with you!”

Adelaide turned away and went weeping from the room, unable to bear any more.

“Oh, Horace!  Horace, what have you done!” she sobbed, as she walked up and down the hall, wringing her hands.

The doctor came out, but she was too much absorbed in her grief to notice him.  He went to her, however, and took her hand.

“Miss Adelaide,” he said kindly, “it is true your little niece is very ill, but we will not give up all hope yet.  It is possible her father’s presence may do something, and surely he will be here ere long.  But try to calm yourself, my dear young lady, and hope for the best, or I fear I shall have another patient on my hands.  I will stay with the little girl myself to-night, and I wish I could prevail upon you to lie down and take some rest, for I see you need it sadly.  Have you had your tea?”