you in deed, papa—­except the few times you have known of, when I forgot, or thought you bade me break God’s law—­but twice I have rebelled in my heart.  Once when you took Miss Rose’s letter from me, and again when mammy told me you had said she must go away.  It was only for a little while each time, papa, but it was very wicked, and I am very, very sorry; will you please forgive me? and I will try never to indulge such wicked feelings again.”

The paper was blistered with Elsie’s tears, and other tears were falling thick and fast upon it now.

“She to ask forgiveness of me, for a momentary feeling of indignation when I so abused my authority,” he groaned.  “Oh, my darling!  I would give all I am worth to bring you back for one hour, that I might ask your forgiveness, on my knees.”

But there was more of the letter, and he read on: 

“Dear papa,” she continued, “should I die, and never see you again in this world, don’t ever feel vexed with yourself, and think that you have been too severe with me.  I know you have only done what you had a right to do—­for am I not your own?  Oh, I love to belong to you, papa! and you meant it all to make me good; and I needed it, for I was loving you too dearly.  I was getting away from my Saviour.  But when you put me away from your arms and separated me from my nurse, I had no one to go to but Jesus, and he drew me closer to him, and I found his love very sweet and precious; it has been all my comfort in my great sorrow.  Dear papa, when I am gone, and you feel sad and lonely, will not you go to Jesus, too?  I will leave you my dear little Bible, papa.  Please read it for Elsie’s sake, and God grant it may comfort you as it has your little daughter.  And, dear papa, try to forget these sad days of our estrangement, and remember only the time when your little girl was always on your knee, or by your side.  Oh! it breaks my heart to think of those sweet times, and that they will never come again!  Oh, for one kiss, one caress, one word of love from you! for oh, how I love you, my own dear, be loved, precious papa!

“Your little daughter,
“ELSIE.”

Mr. Dinsmore dropped his head upon his hands, and groaned aloud.  It was his turn now to long, with an unutterable longing, for one caress, one word of love from those sweet lips that should never speak again.  A long time he sat there, living over again in memory every scene in his life in which his child had borne a part, and repenting, oh, so bitterly! of every harsh word he had ever spoken to her, of every act of unjust severity; and, alas! how many and how cruel they seemed to him now!  Remorse was eating into his very soul, and he would have given worlds to be able to recall the past.

CHAPTER XIII.

“Joy! the lost one is restored!! 
Sunshine comes to hearth and board.”