Mr. Travilla knew not what to say; he was both perplexed and distressed.

But just at that moment a step was heard coming down the path.  Elsie recognized it instantly, and began to tremble, and the next moment her father entered the arbor.

Mr. Dinsmore felt a pang of jealousy at seeing his little girl in Travilla’s arms, which he would have been ashamed to acknowledge to himself, but it caused his tone to be even more than usually stern and severe as he hastily inquired, “What are you doing here, Elsie—­crying again, after all I have said to you?  Go to your room this moment, and stay there until you can show a cheerful face!”

Mr. Travilla set her down, and she obeyed without a word, not even daring to look at her father.

There was a moment of embarrassing silence after she had gone.

Then Travilla said, “It seems Elsie stumbled upon me here quite unexpectedly, and I detained her somewhat against her will, I believe, and have been doing my best to persuade her that she ought to be entirely submissive to you.”

Mr. Dinsmore looked interested, but replied with a sigh, “I fear you did not succeed; she is sadly obstinate, and I begin to fear I shall have to use great severity before I can conquer her.”

Mr. Travilla hesitated a moment, then said, “I am afraid, Dinsmore, that she has the right of it; she quoted Scripture to me till I really had no more to say.”

Mr. Dinsmore looked displeased.

“I should think,” he said almost haughtily, “that the fifth commandment would be answer enough to any argument she could bring to excuse her disobedience.”

“We do not all see alike, Dinsmore,” remarked his friend, “and though I do not say that you are wrong, I must acknowledge that were I in your place, I should do differently, because I should fear that the child was acting from principle rather than self-will or obstinacy.”

“Give up to her, Travilla? never!  It astonishes me that you could suggest such a thing!” exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore with almost fierce determination.  “No, I will conquer her!  I will break her will, though in doing so I break my own heart.”

“And hers, too,” murmured Travilla in a low, sad tone, more as if thinking aloud than answering his friend.

Mr. Dinsmore started.  “No, no,” he said hurriedly, “there is no danger of that; else she would certainly have given up long ago.”

Travilla shook his head, but made no reply; and presently Mr. Dinsmore rose and led the way to the house.

CHAPTER VI.

“The storm of grief bears hard upon her youth, And bends her, like a drooping flower, to earth.”

ROWE’S FAIR PENITENT.

“You are not looking quite well yet, Mr. Dinsmore,” remarked a lady visitor, who called one day to see the family; “and your little daughter, I think, looks as if she, too, had been ill; she is very thin, and seems to have entirely lost her bright color.”