“At one, if you please,” he said, looking at his watch.  “I want Elsie to eat with me, and it must be early, on her account.”

Elsie’s little face was quite bright with pleasure.  “I am so glad, papa,” she said, “it will be very delightful to dine together in our own house.  May I always dine with you?”

“I hope so,” he said, smiling.  “I am not fond of eating alone.”

They were in Mr. Dinsmore’s study, into which Elsie’s own little sitting-room opened.

“Do you feel equal to a walk through your rooms, daughter, or shall I carry you?” he asked, bending over her.

“I think I will try to walk, papa, if you please,” she said, putting her hand in his.

He led her slowly forward, but her step seemed tottering, and he passed his arm around her waist, and supported her to the sofa in her own pretty little boudoir.

Although it was now quite late in the fall, the weather was still warm and pleasant in that southern clime—­flowers were blooming in the gardens, and doors and windows stood wide open.

Elsie glanced out of the window, and then around the room.

“What a lovely place it is, papa!” she said; “and everything in this dear little room is so complete, so very pretty.  Dear papa, you are very, very kind to me!  I will have to be a very good girl to deserve it all.”

“Does it please you, darling?  I am very glad,” he said, drawing her closer to him.  “I have tried to think of everything that would be useful to you, or give you pleasure; but if there is anything else you want, just tell me what it is, and you shall have it.”

“Indeed, papa,” she said, smiling up at him, “I could never have thought of half the pretty things that are here already; and I don’t believe there is anything else I could possibly want.  Ah! papa, how happy I am to-day; so very much happier than when I was here before.  Then I thought I should never be happy again in this world.  There is your picture.  I cried very much when I looked at it that day, but it does not make me feel like crying now, and I am so glad to have it.  Thank you a thousand times for giving it to me.”

“You are very welcome, darling; you deserve it all, and more than all,” replied her father tenderly.  “And now,” he asked, “will you look at the other rooms, or are you too tired?”

“I want to try the piano first, if you please, papa,” she said; “it is so long since I touched one.”

He opened the instrument, and then picked her up and seated her on the stool, saying, “I am afraid you will find yourself hardly equal to the exertion; but you may try.”

She began a little piece which had always been a favorite of his—­he standing beside her, and supporting her with his arm—­but it seemed hard work; the tiny hands trembled so with weakness and he would not let her finish.

“You must wait until another day, dearest,” he said, taking her in his arms; “you are not strong enough yet, and I think I will have to carry you through the other rooms, if you are to see them at all.  Shall I?”