“My poor old father!  I fear we shall not have him with us much longer,” Mr. Dinsmore remarked with emotion.

Elsie’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.  “Dear old grandpa!” she murmured.  “But, dear papa, be comforted! he may live for years yet, and should it please God to take him, we know that our loss will be his infinite gain.”

“Yes; would that we had the same assurance in regard to all his children and grandchildren.”

Silence fell between them for some minutes.

Elsie knew that her father, when making that last remark, was thinking more particularly of his half sister, Mrs. Conly, and her daughter Virginia.

The two had gone to a fashionable watering-place to spend the last fortnight of their summer’s sojourn at the North, and ere it expired Virginia had contracted a hasty marriage with a man of reputed wealth, whom she met there for the first time.

The match was made with the full consent and approval of her mother—­who, on rejoining the Dinsmores and Travillas, boasted much of “Virginia’s brilliant position and prospects”—­but without the knowledge of any other relative.  No opportunity of making inquiries about the character or real circumstances of the stranger to whom she committed the happiness of her life, was afforded by Virginia to grandfather, uncle or brothers.

Of late Mrs. Conly had ceased to boast of the match—­scarcely mentioned Virginia’s name; and Mr. Dinsmore had learned from Calhoun and Arthur that Virginia’s letters were no longer shown to any one, and seemed to irritate and depress their mother so unmistakably that they feared more and more there was something very much amiss with their sister; yet the mother steadily evaded all inquiries on the subject.

Mr. Dinsmore presently told all this to his daughter, adding that he very much feared Virginia had made an utter wreck of her earthly happiness.

“Poor Virgie!” sighed Elsie.  “Ah! if only she had been blest with such a father as mine!” turning upon him a look of grateful love.

“Or such a mother as my granddaughters have,” added Mr. Dinsmore, smiling into the soft, sweet eyes.

“What blessings my darlings are! how good and lovable in spite of my failures in right training and example,” she said in sincere humility.

“Those failures and mistakes have been very few, I think,” was his reply; “you have tried very earnestly and prayerfully to train them up in the way they should go.  And God is faithful to his promises—­your children do not depart from the right way; they do arise and call you blessed.”

“Papa,” she said, in moved tones, after a moment’s silence, “we must not forget how much is due to the training, the example, and the prayers of their father.”

“No, daughter; and we can always plead in their behalf the precious promises to the seed of the righteous.  ’I will pour my Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine offspring.’  ’A good man leaveth an inheritance to his children’s children.’”