“Yes, if you are penitent, and promise to offend no more.  What is it?”

“I see I have aroused your curiosity, I shall not keep you in suspense.  I am corresponding with a young gentleman.  Here is a letter from him, received to-day;” drawing it from her pocket as she spoke, she put it into his hand.

“I have no wish to examine it,” he said gravely, laying it on her lap.  “I can trust you fully, Elsie.”

“But I should like you to read it; ’tis from Mr. Mason, my chaplain at Viamede, and gives a lengthy, and very interesting account of the Christmas doings there.”

“Which I should much prefer to hear from your lips, my little friend.”

“Ah, read it, please; read it aloud to me; I shall then enjoy it as much as I did the first time; and you will learn how truly good and pious Mr. Mason is, far better than from my telling.  Not that he talks of himself, but you perceive it from what he says of others.”

He complied with her request, reading in the undertone in which they had been talking.

“A very well written and interesting letter,” he remarked, as he refolded and returned it.  “Yes, I should judge from it that he is the right man in the right place.  I presume the selection of gifts so satisfactory to all parties must have been yours?”

“Yes, sir; being with them, I was able to ascertain their wants and wishes, by questioning one in regard to another.  Then I made out the list, and left Mr. Mason to do the purchasing for me.  I think I can trust him again, and it is a great relief to my mind to have some one there to attend to the welfare of their souls and bodies.”

“Have you gotten over your fright of this evening?” he inquired tenderly, bending towards her, and speaking lower than before.

“Almost if—­if you have not to return to Ion to-night.  Must you, really?”

“Yes; mother would be alarmed by my absence; and she seldom retires till I am there to bid her good-night.”

“Then promise me to avoid that thicket,” she pleaded anxiously.

“I cannot think there is any real danger,” he said, with a reassuring smile, “but I shall take the other road; ’tis but a mile further round, and it would pay me to travel fifty to spare you a moment’s anxiety, dearest.”

She looked her thanks.

He left at ten, his usual hour, bidding her have no fear for him, since no real evil can befall those who put their trust in Him whose watchful, protecting care is ever about His chosen ones.

“Yes,” she whispered, as for a moment his arm encircled her waist, “’What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.’  It is comparatively easy to trust for myself, and God will help me to do it for you also.”

She stood at the window watching his departure, her heart going up in silent prayer for his safety.  Then, saying to herself, “Papa must not be disturbed with my idle fancies,” she turned to receive his good-night with a face so serene and unclouded, a manner so calm and peaceful, that he had no suspicion of anything amiss.