disgrace with Miss Day, who threatened more than once to tell her papa.
It was a threat which Elsie dreaded extremely to have put in execution, and Miss Day, seeing that it distressed her, used it the more frequently, and thus kept the poor child in constant terror.
How to gain her father's love was the constant subject of her thoughts, and she tried in many ways to win his affection. She always yielded a ready and cheerful obedience to his commands, and strove to anticipate and fulfil all his wishes. But he seldom noticed her, unless to give a command or administer a rebuke, while he lavished many a caress upon his little sister, Enna. Often Elsie would watch him fondling her, until, unable any longer to control her feelings, she would rush away to her own room to weep and mourn in secret, and pray that her father might some day learn to love her. She never complained even to poor old Aunt Chloe, but the anxious nurse watched all these things with the jealous eye of affection; she saw that her child—as she delighted to call her—was very unhappy, and was growing pale and melancholy; and her heart ached for her, and many were the tears she shed in secret over the sorrows of her nursling.
"Don't 'pear so sorrowful, darlin'," she sometimes said to her; "try to be merry, like Miss Enna, and run and jump on Massa Horace's knee, and den I tink he will like you better."
"O mammy! I can't," Elsie would say; "I don't dare to do it."
And Chloe would sigh and shake her head sorrowfully.
Chapter Fourth
"With more capacity for love than earth
Bestows on most of mortal mould and birth."
—BYRON.
"What are our hopes?
Like garlands, on afflictions's forehead worn,
Kissed in the morning, and at evening torn."
—DAVENPORT'S King John and Matilda.
Such had been the state of affairs for about a week, when one morning Elsie and her father met at the breakfast-room door.
"Good morning, papa," she said timidly.
"Good morning, Elsie," he replied in an unusually pleasant tone.
Then, taking her by the hand, he led her in and seated her beside himself at the table.
Elsie's cheek glowed and her eyes sparkled with pleasure.
There were several guests present, and she waited patiently while they and the older members of the family were being helped. At length it was her turn.
"Elsie, will you have some meat?" asked her grandfather.
"No," said her father, answering for her; "once a day is as often as a child of her age ought to eat meat; she may have it at dinner, but never for breakfast or tea."
The elder Mr. Dinsmore laughed, saying, "Really, Horace, I had no idea you were so notionate. I always allowed you to eat whatever you pleased, and I never saw that it hurt you. But, of course, you must manage your own child in your own way."
"If you please, papa, I had rather have some of those hot cakes," said Elsie, timidly, as her father laid a slice of bread upon her plate.
"No," said he decidedly; "I don't approve of hot bread for children; you must eat the cold." Then to a servant who was setting down a cup of coffee beside the little girl's plate, "Take that away, Pomp, and bring Miss Elsie a tumbler of milk. Or would you prefer water, Elsie?"
"Milk, if you please, papa," she replied with a little sigh; for she was extremely fond of coffee, and it was something of a trial to give it up.
Her father put a spoonful of stewed fruit upon her plate, and as Pompey set down a tumbler of rich milk beside it, said, "Now you have your breakfast before you, Elsie. Children in England are not allowed to eat butter until they are ten or eleven years of age, and I think it an excellent plan, to make them grow up rosy and healthy. I have neglected my little girl too long, but I intend to begin to take good care of her now," he added, with a smile, and laying his hand for an instant upon her head.
The slight caress and the few kind words were quite enough to reconcile Elsie to the rather meagre fare, and she ate it with a happy heart. But the meagre fare became a constant thing, while the caresses and kind words were not; and though she submitted without a murmur, she could not help sometimes looking with longing eyes at the coffee and hot buttered rolls, of which she was very fond. But she tried to be contented, saying to herself, "Papa knows best, and I ought to be satisfied with whatever he gives me."
"Isn't it delightful to have your papa at home, Elsie?" Mr. Dinsmore one morning overheard Arthur saying to his little girl in a mocking tone. "It's very pleasant to live on bread and water, isn't it, eh?"
"I don't live on bread and water," Elsie replied, a little indignantly. "Papa always allows me to have as much good, rich milk, and cream, and fruit as I want, or I can have eggs, or cheese, or honey, or anything else, except meat and hot cakes, and butter, and coffee; and who wouldn't rather do without such things all their lives than not have a papa to love them? And besides, you know, Arthur, that I can have all the meat I want at dinner."
"Pooh! that's nothing; and I wouldn't give much for all the love you get from him," said Arthur, scornfully.
There was something like a sob from Elsie; and as her father rose and went to the window, he just caught a glimpse of her white dress disappearing down the garden walk.
"What do you mean, sir, by teasing Elsie in that manner?" he exclaimed angrily to Arthur, who still stood where the little girl had left him, leaning against one of the pillars of the portico.
"I only wanted to have a little fun," returned the boy doggedly.
"Well, sir, I don't approve of such fun, and you will please to let the child alone in future," replied his brother as he returned to his newspaper again.
But somehow the paper had lost its interest. He seemed constantly to hear that little sob, and to see a little face all wet with tears of wounded feeling.
Just then the school-bell rang, and suddenly throwing down his paper, he took a card from his pocket, wrote a few words upon it, and calling a servant, said, "Take this to Miss Day."
Elsie was seated at her desk, beginning her morning's work, when the servant entered and handed the card to the governess.
Miss Day glanced at it and said:
"Elsie, your father wants you. You may go."
Elsie rose in some trepidation and left the room, wondering what her papa could want with her.
"Where is papa, Fanny?" she asked of the servant.
"In de drawin'-room, Miss Elsie," was the reply; and she hastened to seek him there.
He held out his hand as she entered, saying with a smile, "Come here, daughter."
It was the first time he
