A familiar step was heard in the outer room.  The door opened quietly, and Elsie looking up cried, “Papa,” in a delighted yet subdued tone.

“My darling,” he said, coming to her and taking her in his arms.  “How nice to see you up again; but you must be careful, very, very careful, not to overexert yourself.”

“I am, my dear father, for Edward insists on it, and watches over me, and baby too, as if really afraid we might somehow slip away from him.”

“He is quite right.  There, you must not stand, recline in your chair again, while I help myself to a seat by your side.  How are you to-day?”

“I think I never felt better in my life, papa; so strong and well that it seems absurd to be taking such care of myself.”

“Not at all; you must do it.  You seem to be alone with your babe.  I hope you never lift her?”

“No, sir, not yet.  That I shall not has been my husband’s second order.  Mammy is within easy call, just in the next room, and will come the instant she is wanted.”

“Let me look at her; unless you think it will disturb her rest.”

“Oh, no, sir.”  And the young mother gently drew aside the curtain of the crib.

The two bent over the sleeping babe, listening to its gentle breathing.

“Ah, papa, I feel so rich! you don’t know how I love her!” whispered Elsie.

“Don’t I, my daughter? don’t I know how I love you?” And his eyes turned with yearning affection upon her face, then back to that of the little one.  “Six weeks old to-day, and a very cherub for beauty.  Aunt Chloe tells me she is precisely my daughter over again, and I feel as if I had now an opportunity to recover what I lost in not having my first-born with me from her birth.  Little Elsie, grandpa feels that you are his; his precious treasure.”

The young mother’s eyes grew misty with a strange mixture of emotion, in which love and joy were the deepest and strongest.  Her arm stole round her father’s neck.

“Dear papa, how nice of you to love her so; my precious darling.  She is yours, too, almost as much as Edward’s and mine.  And I am sure if we should be taken away and you and she be left, you would be the the same good father to her you have been to me.”

“Much better, I hope.  My dear daughter, I was far too hard with you at times.  But I know you have forgiven it all long ago.”

“Papa, dear papa, please don’t ever again talk of—­of forgiveness from me; I was your own, and I believe you always did what you thought was for my good; and oh, what you have been, and are to me, no tongue can tell.”

“Or you to me, my own beloved child,” he answered with emotion.

The babe stirred, and opened its eyes with a little, “Coo, coo.”

“Let me take her,” said Mr. Dinsmore, turning back the cover and gently lifting her from her cozy nest.

Elsie lay back among her cushions again, watching with delighted eyes as her father held and handled the wee body as deftly as the most competent child’s nurse.