“Oh, mammy, will he ever smile on me again?  Shall I ever live with him in this dear home?” sobbed the poor child.  “Oh! it is hard, hard to give it all up—­to have papa always displeased with me.  Oh, mammy, there is such a weary aching at my heart—­is it never to be satisfied?”

“My poor, poor chile! my poor little pet, I’se sure it’ll all come right by-an’-by,” replied Chloe soothingly, as soon as emotion would suffer her to speak.  “You know it is de Lord that sends all our ‘flictions, an’ you must ‘member de pretty words you was jes a singin’, ‘He doeth all things well.’  He says, ’What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know here after.’  De great God can change your father’s heart, and ’cline him to ’spect your principles, and I do blieve he will do it.”

Elsie sobbed out her dread of the boarding-school, with its loneliness and its temptations.

“Now don’t you go for to be ’fraid of all dat, darlin’,” replied her nurse.  “Has you forgotten how it says in de good book, ’Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world’? an’ if he is with you, who can hurt you?  Jes nobody.”

A text came to Elsie’s mind:  “The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms!” and lifting her head, she dashed away her tears.

“No,” she said, “I will not be afraid; at least I will try not to be.  ’The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?’ But, oh! mammy, I must go now, and I feel as if I were saying farewell to you and this sweet home forever; as if I were never to live in these pretty rooms—­never to see them again.”

“Hush! hush, darlin’! ‘tain’t never best to borrow trouble, an’ I’se sure you’ll come back one ob dese days,” replied Chloe, forcing herself to speak cheerfully, though her heart ached as she looked into the soft, hazel eyes, all dimmed with tears, and marked how thin and pale the dear little face had grown.

Elsie was passing around the room again, taking a farewell look at each picture and piece of furniture; then she stood a moment gazing out over the lawn, to the rolling sea beyond.

She was murmuring something to herself, and Chloe started as her ear faintly caught the words:  “In my Father’s house are many mansions.”

“Mammy!” said the child, suddenly turning and taking her hand, “look yonder!” and she pointed with her finger.  “Do you see that beautiful, tall tree that casts such a thick shade?  I want to be buried right there, where papa can see my grave when he sits in here, and think that I am with him yet.  When I am gone, mammy, you must tell him that I told you this.  It would be so pleasant to be there—­it is such a lovely spot, and the distant murmur of the sea seems like a lullaby to sing the weary one to rest.”  She added, dreamily, “I would like to lie down there now.”