PSALM 119:  92.

Elsie was sitting alone in her room when there came a light tap on the door, immediately followed, much to the little girl’s surprise, by the entrance of her Aunt Adelaide, who shut and locked the door behind her, saying, “I am glad you are quite alone; though, indeed, I suppose that is almost always the case now-a-days.  I see,” she continued, seating herself by the side of the astonished child, “that you are wondering what has brought me to visit you, to whom I have not spoken for so many weeks; but I will tell you.  I come from a sincere desire to do you a kindness, Elsie; for, though I don’t know how to understand nor excuse your obstinacy, and heartily approve of your father’s determination to conquer you, I must say that I think he is unnecessarily harsh and severe in some of his measures—­”

“Please don’t, Aunt Adelaide,” Elsie interrupted, in a pleading voice, “please don’t speak so of papa to me; for you know I ought not to hear it.”

“Pooh! nonsense!” said Adelaide, “it is very naughty in you to interrupt me; but, as I was about to remark, I don’t see any use in your being forbidden to correspond with Miss Allison, because her letters could not possibly do you any harm, but rather the contrary, for she is goodness itself—­and so I have brought you a letter from her which has just come enclosed in one to me.”

She took it from her pocket as she spoke, and handed it to Elsie.

The little girl looked longingly at it, but made no movement to take it.

“Thank you, Aunt Adelaide, you are very kind indeed,” she said, with tears in her eyes, “and I should dearly love to read it; but I cannot touch it without papa’s permission.”

“Why, you silly child! he will never know anything about it,” exclaimed her aunt quickly. “I shall never breathe a word to him, nor to anybody else, and, of course, you will not tell on yourself; and if you are afraid the letter might by some mischance fall into his hands, just destroy it as soon as you have read it.”

“Dear Aunt Adelaide, please take it away and don’t tempt me any more, for I want it so very much I am afraid I shall take it if you do, and that would be so very wrong,” said Elsie, turning away her head.

“I presume you are afraid to trust me; you needn’t be, though,” replied Adelaide, in a half offended tone.  “Horace will never learn it from me, and there is no possible danger of his ever finding it out in any other way, for I shall write to Rose at once, warning her not to send you any more letters at present.”

“I am not at all afraid to trust you, Aunt Adelaide, nor do I think there is any danger of papa’s finding it out,” Elsie answered earnestly; “but I should know it myself, and God would know it, too, and you know he has commanded me to obey my father in everything that is not wrong; and I must obey him, no matter how hard it is.”

“Well, you are a strange child,” said Adelaide, as she returned the letter to her pocket and rose to leave the room; “such a compound of obedience and disobedience I don’t pretend to understand.”