A few days after this, Elsie was passing down the hall.  The doors and windows were all open, for it was a warm spring day, and as she passed the drawing-room door, she paused a moment and looked in.  Her father sat reading near one of the windows, and her eyes were riveted upon his face.  He was still pale from his recent illness; and his face had a troubled, care-worn look, very different from its usual expression.

Oh! what a longing desire came over the little girl at that sight, to go to him and say that she was sorry for all the past, and that in the future she would be and do everything that he asked.  She burst into tears and turned hastily away.  She was hurrying out to the garden, but at the door she encountered her aunt Adelaide.

“What is the matter, Elsie?” she asked, putting her hand on the child’s shoulder and forcibly detaining her.

“Oh!  Aunt Adelaide,” sobbed the little girl, “papa looks so ill and sad.”

“And no wonder, Elsie,” replied her aunt severely; “you are quite enough to make him sad, and ill, too, with your perverse, obstinate ways.  You have yourself to thank for it all, for it is just that, and nothing else, that ails him.”

She turned away as she spoke, and poor Elsie, wringing her hands in an agony of grief, darted down the garden-walk to her favorite arbor.

Her eyes were so blinded by tears that she did not see that Mr. Travilla was sitting there, until she was close beside him.

She turned then, and would have run away again, but he caught her by the dress, and drawing her gently toward him, said in a mild, soothing tone—­

“Don’t run away from me, my poor little friend, but tell me the cause of your sorrow, and who knows but I may be able to assist you.”

Elsie shook her head mournfully, but allowed him, to set her on his knee, and put his arm around her.

“My poor child! my poor, dear little girl!” he said, wiping away her tears, and kissing her very much as her father had been in the habit of doing.

It reminded her of him and his lost love, and caused a fresh burst of tears and sobs.

“Poor child!” said Mr. Travilla again, “is there nothing I can do for you?  Will you not tell me the cause of your grief?”

“Oh, Mr. Travilla!” she sobbed, “papa is very much displeased with me, and he looks so sad and ill, it almost breaks my heart.”

“And why is he displeased with you, my dear?  If you have done wrong and are sorry for your fault, I am sure you have only to confess it, and ask forgiveness, and all will be right again,” he said kindly, drawing her head down upon his breast, and smoothing back the curls from her flushed and tear-stained face.

Elsie made no reply, and he went on—­

“When we have done wrong, my dear little girl—­as we do all sometimes—­it is much more noble to acknowledge it and ask pardon, than to try to hide our faults; and you know, dear little Elsie,” he added in a graver tone, “that the Bible teaches us that children must obey their parents.”