Her pleading eyes were fixed upon his face, and ere she had finished her sentence, she was trembling violently at the dark frown she saw gathering There.

“Elsie,” said he, in the cold, stern tone she so much dreaded, “I am sorry you have broken your flower.  I cannot divine your motive—­affection for me it cannot be; for that such a feeling exists in the breast of a little girl, who not only could refuse her sick father the very small favor of reading to him, but would rather see him die than give up her own self-will, I cannot believe.  No, Elsie, take it away; I can receive no gifts nor tokens of affection from a rebellious, disobedient child.”

The flower had fallen upon the floor, and Elsie stood in an attitude of utter despair, her head bent down upon her breast, and her hands hanging listlessly at her side.  For an instant she stood thus, and then, with a sudden revulsion of feeling, she sank down on her knees beside her father’s chair, and seizing his hand in both of hers, pressed it to her heart, and then to her lips, covering it with kisses and tears, while great bursting sobs shook her whole frame.

“Oh, papa! dear, dear papa!  I do love you! indeed, indeed I do.  Oh, how could you say such cruel words to me?” she sobbed.

“Hush!” he said, withdrawing his hand.  “I will have nothing but the truth from you, and ‘actions speak louder than words.’  Get up immediately, and dry your tears.  Miss Day tells me that you are ruining your eyes by continual crying; and if I hear any more such complaints, I shall punish you severely.  I will not allow it at all, for you have nothing whatever to make you unhappy but your own misconduct.  Just as soon as you are ready to submit to my authority, you will find yourself treated with the same indulgence and affection as formerly; but remember, not till then!”

His words were like daggers to the affectionate, sensitive child.  Had he stabbed her to the heart he could not have hurt her more.

“Oh, papa!” she murmured in heart-broken accents, as in obedience to his command she rose to her feet, struggling hard to keep back the tears he had forbidden her to shed.

But her emotion did not seem to move him.  Her conduct during his severe illness had been so misrepresented to him, that at times he was wellnigh convinced that her seeming affection was all hypocrisy, and that she really regarded him only in the light of a tyrant, from whose authority she would be glad to escape in any way.

“Pick up your flower and leave the room,” he said.  “I have no desire for your company until you can learn to obey as you ought.”

Silently and mechanically Elsie obeyed him, and hastening to her own room again, threw herself into her nurse’s arms, weeping as though she would weep her very life away.

Chloe asked no questions as to the cause of her emotion—­which the flower in her hand, and the remembrance of the morning’s conversation, sufficiently explained—­but tried in every way to soothe and encourage her to hope for future reconciliation.