She assented, laying her head down languidly on his shoulder, and had very little to say, as he bore her along through the dressing-room, and into the bed-room beyond.

The bed looked very inviting with its snowy drapery, and he laid her gently down upon it, saying, “You are too much fatigued to attempt anything more, and must take a nap now, my pet, to recruit yourself a little before dinner.”

“Don’t leave me, papa! please don’t!” she exclaimed, half starting up as he turned toward the door.

“No, dearest,” he said, “I am only going to get your shawl to lay over you, and will be back again in a moment.”

He returned almost immediately, but found her already fast asleep.

“Poor darling! she is quite worn out,” he murmured, as he spread the shawl carefully over her.  Then taking a book from his pocket, he sat down by her side, and read until she awoke.

It was the sound of the dinner-bell which had roused her, and as she sat up looking quite bright and cheerful again, he asked if she thought she could eat some dinner, and would like to be taken to the dining-room.  She assented, and he carried her there, seated her in an easy-chair, wheeled it up to the table, and then sat down opposite to her, looking supremely happy.

The servants were about to uncover the dishes, but motioning them to wait a moment, Mr. Dinsmore bowed his head over his plate, and asked a blessing on their food.  It sent a glow of happiness to Elsie’s little, pale face, and she loved and respected her father more than ever.  She seemed to enjoy her dinner, and he watched her with a pleased look.

“The change of air has done you good already, I think,” he remarked; “you seem to have a better appetite than you have had since your sickness.”

“Yes, papa, I believe everything tastes good because it is home,” she answered, smiling lovingly up at him.

After dinner he held her on his knee a while, chatting pleasantly with her about their plans for the future; and then, laying her on the sofa in her pretty boudoir, he brought a book from his library, and read to her.

It was a very interesting story he had chosen; and he had been reading for more than an hour, when, happening to look at her he noticed that her eyes were very bright, and her cheeks flushed, as if with fever.  He suddenly closed the book, and laid his finger on her pulse.

“Oh! papa, please go on,” she begged; “I am so much interested.”

“No, daughter, your pulse is very quick, and I fear this book is entirely too exciting for you at present—­so I shall not read you any more of it to-day,” he said, laying it aside.

“Oh! papa, I want to hear it so much; do please read a little more, or else let me have the book myself,” she pleaded in a coaxing tone.

“My little daughter must not forget old lessons,” he replied very gravely.

She turned away her head with almost a pout on her lip, and her eyes full of tears.