But she was unable to finish her sentence.

He had knelt down by her side, and now raising her gently up, and laying her head against his breast, he kissed her tenderly, saying in a moved tone, in the beautiful words of Ruth, the Moabitess, “The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part me and thee.”  He paused a moment, as if unable to proceed; then, in tones tremulous with emotion, said:  “Elsie, my dear, my darling daughter, I have been a very cruel father to you; I have most shamefully abused my authority; but never again will I require you to do anything contrary to the teachings of God’s word.  Will you forgive your father, dearest, for all he has made you suffer?”

“Dear papa, don’t! oh, please don’t say such words to me!” she said; “I cannot bear to hear them.  You had a right to do whatever you pleased with your own child.”

“No, daughter; not to force you to disobey God,” he answered with deep solemnity.  “I have learned to look upon you now, not as absolutely my own, but as belonging first to him, and only lent to me for a time; and I know that I will have to give an account of my stewardship.”

He paused a moment, then went on:  “Elsie, darling, your prayers for me have been answered; your father has learned to know and love Jesus, and has consecrated to his service the remainder of his days.  And now, dear one, we are travelling the same road at last.”

Her happiness was too deep for words—­for anything but tears; and putting her little arms around his neck, she sobbed out her joy and gratitude upon his breast.

Aunt Chloe had gone down to the kitchen, immediately upon Mr. Dinsmore’s entrance, to prepare Elsie’s breakfast, and so they were quite alone.  He held her to his heart for a moment; then kissing away her tears, laid her gently back upon her pillow again, and took up the Bible, which lay beside her.

“I have learned to love it almost as well as you do, dearest,” he said.  “Shall we read together, as you and Miss Rose used to do long ago?”

Her glad look was answer enough; and opening to one of her favorite passages, he read it in his deep, rich voice, while she lay listening, with a full heart, to the dearly loved words, which sounded sweeter than ever before.

He closed the book.  He had taken one of her little hands in his ere he began to read, and still holding it fast in a close, loving grasp, he knelt down and prayed.

He thanked God for their spared lives, and especially for the recovery of his dear little one, who had so lately been tottering upon the very verge of the grave—­and his voice trembled with emotion as he alluded to that time of trial—­and confessed that it was undeserved mercy to him, for he had been most unfaithful to his trust.  And then he asked for grace and wisdom to guide and guard her, and train her up aright, both by precept and example.  He confessed that he had been all his days a wanderer from the right path, and that if left to himself he never would have sought it; but thanked God that he had been led by the gracious influences of the Holy Spirit to turn his feet into that straight and narrow way; and he prayed that he might be kept from ever turning aside again into the broad road, and that he and his little girl might now walk hand in hand together on their journey to the celestial city.